


Fire and the End of Time

by FrostyFelassan



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, F/M, Magic, Personal Growth, Self-Discovery, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:22:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 53,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28179792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrostyFelassan/pseuds/FrostyFelassan
Summary: After waking up in Haven as a prisoner to angryshemlen, Lavellan is later freed, or so they tell her. Fearing for the safety of her clan, she accepts that she must stay on to help her former jailers. Now at the heart of ashemlenholy war, she turns to the Inquisition's other elven apostate, hoping to gain an ally. Solas is not what she expects.His forehead is pressed to hers as he whispers reassurances in elvish that she does not understand. She knows this is the end. There will be no resolution, no closure. They are the same.She kisses him and plunges her mana into his, surging against his surprise. His response is immediate. He knows the truth as well as she. They are the same and it is fatal.
Relationships: Female Inquisitor & Dorian Pavus, Female Inquisitor & Varric Tethras, Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford, Female Inquisitor/Solas (Dragon Age), Female Lavellan & Cassandra Pentaghast, Female Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford, Female Lavellan/Solas
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	1. Captive

**Author's Note:**

> I have been creating Brill's story in my head for a long time, and finally decided to write it. 
> 
> **A word of warning** : The romantic relationships in this fic will likely not be the kind to give you butterflies, unless you find irreconcilable toxicity between lovers to be the height of fluff. I will do my best to alter tags as I post, and add trigger warnings if I find them necessary, but if you need fluff and happy endings to enjoy a story, turn back now. The likelihood of things going that route are low.

Her heart pounded erratically in her chest. Ripples of anxiety increased their intensity with every passing moment. Her thoughts were wild and disconnected. She sifted through her mind desperately to recall where she was and how she'd gotten there. 

_I arrived in Haven with the mercenaries. Keeper Deshanna wanted me to... I was assigned to the general patrol inside of the Temple. I-_

Again, her hand flashed a nauseating green, allowing her a glimpse of the armed guards surrounding her as she knelt shackled on the stone floor of the prison. The abrupt crackle that accompanied the flash caused a few of the _shemlen_ guards to flinch. They looked apprehensive. And frightened. Overwhelmingly angry. Looking away, she tried again to both remember how the mark got there and to forget its existence.

_Where did it come from?!_ she wondered with panic rising in her chest. _Am I an abomination? Did something happen to the mages? Did the templars taint our magic?_ She shook her head a fraction. _That_ _doesn't_ _make sense_. _If the templars were capable of such magic, the war would have been over long before now._

Her thoughts turned to her final moments with her Keeper, as surely they were the last, given her current situation, and she relaxed a bit. She took a deep breath and conjured up the memory of Deshanna, confidently reminding her of both her purpose and her path. Deshanna had believed her ready to help the clan. To show the others that she could be trusted and relied upon when Deshanna was gone. Deshanna knew that the clan's acceptance of new leadership would not come freely. She would have to prove herself. 

So she had left, Deshanna's confidence her driving motivation. 

The door in front of her opened with a crash, abruptly ending her chaotic reverie. She looked up sharply, panicked as she tried to make out the figures before her. Two women, one dainty and hooded and the other tall and dark, stood before her. The women were obviously seething, angrier even than the guards, and she wondered what she had done to earn this ire from the _shemlen_. Her orders were to be invisible. She had been. 

_What went wrong?_

The women ceased their shouting. She realized that they were staring at her, expectant looks upon their faces. 

"I - what?" 

The tall woman sneered. "Do not attempt to stall. What. Is. Your. Name."

"I am Brill. First of Clan Lavellan". Her voice trembled with nerves, and a stream of questions poured out of her, "Where am I? Why am I in shackles? What is this thing on my hand?" 

The women looked at one another and began to talk quietly between themselves. They did not answer her questions. Brill drifted back into her disjointed thoughts. Then, the tall woman was in her face, questioning, berating. The other joined in, the _shemlen_ women equally accusatory and threatening, their voices escalating as they incriminated and questioned her with no results. They talked of murder, an explosion at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, they were convinced that Brill was responsible. She finally snapped. 

"I have no idea what has happened. I woke up shackled with an abomination burning from my hand. The guards won't talk. You won't explain. If you plan to kill me, just get it over with." After surveying her for a moment, the women turned from her again, speaking in low voices so that she could not hear. 

Brill sat back on her ankles, exhausted and filled with futility. Her efforts, her mission; all for nothing. Deshanna and her clan would likely never know what had become of her. _Probably for the best_ , she thought. 

The hooded woman strode out of the room without a backward glance. To her surprise, the remaining woman pulled Brill to her feet and removed the shackles. 

"You _will_ answer for what you've done, but not before you help us to fix your... mess". She spat the last word. 

With that, she dragged Brill out of the prison and into chaos. 

* * *

The hellscape outside of the prison was inconceivable. The world beneath the hole in the sky was cast in a hazy, viridian light, demons falling randomly around her. Sounds of battle and terrified screams sounded through the air as she followed her captor, Cassandra, toward the temple ruins. They came upon a gruesome scene, the path before them swarming with demons and a half dozen dead soldiers. The two women were quickly surrounded, and Brill seized a staff that was still clutched in the lifeless hands of its former owner. 

Frantic fighting ensued, Brill terrified as she dodged the shades' claws and tried to avoid the plumes of magic being hurled from a distance by two wraiths. Cassandra was a flurry of destruction as she cut through shades with haste, determination upon her face. Brill froze each wraith, finishing them off with a shatter spell. Then, she was knocked off of her feet, a shade towering over her as it went in for the kill. Brill scrambled backward, knowing she was not fast enough to avoid its claws. The shade exploded into dust before her eyes, Cassandra materializing as it settled. 

When Brill stood, Cassandra put a sword to her throat. 

"Drop. Your weapon," Cassandra ordered.

"I don't _need_ this staff to use my magic, you know," Brill replied, "but I'll certainly be more useful in a fight if I have one."

Cassandra sneered, but lowered her sword. "You do have a point. Know this: if you so much as _hint_ at treachery, I will not hesitate to cut you down where you stand." She sheathed her sword and the two of them resumed their trek up the mountain. 

The path they took to find Cassandra's group was rugged and littered with debris, too much of which Brill had decided were fragmented body parts. The realization sickened her, and she struggled to keep her eyes off of the ground. The thought of dead flesh squelching beneath her feet twisted her stomach into knots of revulsion. 

After what felt like hours, they rounded a corner and Brill stopped short. The ongoing battle before her was secondary to the manipulation of reality she saw hovering a few meters above the ground. It was much larger, of course, but it was the same pulsating, crackling, nauseating green light that marked her hand. The green light throbbed ominously as demons fell from it, surrounding the small group of combatants who fought beneath the rift. Several of the demons turned towards Brill and Cassandra as they approached the fray. 

The battle was exhausting but brief. Brill collapsed onto the ground, fatigued and fighting to catch her breath. Before she could recover, she was yanked back to her feet by her marked hand. 

"Quickly, before more come through!" The flat-ear who had grabbed her thrust her hand towards the rift. A jolt shot through her and exploded out of her hand, forming a connection with the rift above them and then -

The world around them freezes in place. They are immobilized, and she feels immense power flowing through her, the rift, and the flat-ear. The three coalesce into a singular, furious engine fueled by chaos. They are a mindless, feral being; a being with neither purpose nor direction. Raw, nameless emotions storm through the synthesis of their souls. They are powerless, plunging through the roiling tide of madness. It is orgasmic, sensory overload at its basest level, stroking the very soul to its inevitable climax, flying ever higher towards an unknown zenith -

The rift imploded with a reverberating blast, and time around them resumed. Brill and the flat-ear jumped apart with one final shock. They stared at each other in astonishment for an instant, then dropped each other's gaze. 

For the first time since gaining consciousness, Brill was fully present. 

* * *

The others appeared to be unaffected by the rift's closing. Brill looked again at the flat-ear. 

"What did you do?" she asked, desperately trying to keep her voice light, feigning simple curiosity to cover her terrified excitement. 

The flat-ear answered calmly, " _I_ did nothing. The credit is yours." Brill studied his face, looking for a hint that he'd shared the profound experience. His face was placid, possible strain evidenced only by the slight furrow in his brow. 

Before she could further question him, a dwarf with an impressive crossbow approached Brill and made her acquaintance. Varric Tethras, famed author of Kirkwall in the Free Marches. Varric's exploits in Kirkwall were so well-known that they hadn't escaped the notice of Clan Lavellan. Keeper Deshanna had considered sending an attaché to Kirkwall after the Chantry explosion, but had been dissuaded by the breakout of the war. 

After a somewhat heated discussion regarding whether or not Varric should stick around, the elf, who was certainly no city elf, presented himself with aplomb. 

“I am Solas, if there are to be introductions. I am pleased to see you still live.”

Solas. The elvish word for pride. Quite a name for one so nondescript. Brill would have overlooked him were it not for their encounter with the rift. As he spoke with Cassandra regarding Brill's role in the chaos, Brill studied him. Nothing about him stood out. He wore a simple smock over breeches, with his feet wrapped in traditional Dalish foot wrappings. He was the picture of calm, which Brill found odd considering the state of the world surrounding them. She entertained the possibility that closing the rift had been entirely her own experience. She was, after all, the one with the mark. Perhaps what she'd felt was simply her own magic mixing with the magic of the rift. 

The conversation came to a close as Cassandra insisted that they get to the forward camp. When they arrived, Brill held her tongue as she was accused yet again of destroying the world by an old _shemlen_ wearing Chantry robes. Resigned, she thought to herself that the _shemlen_ would either kill her after she closed the Breach, or they would not. She saw no point in further exacerbating the situation in the meantime. To her surprise, Cassandra asked Brill her opinion on their route to the exploded Temple. Not keen on scaling mountains or mine shafts, Brill opted for a frontal charge. 

The rest of the journey to the Breach was uneventful. More demons to kill, more rifts to close, a handsome templar brimming with blatant apprehension. Overall, nothing of note when compared to the rest of the day's events.

Then Brill laid eyes on the rift beneath the Breach in the sky. It was immense, and so high up that she wondered whether she could even reach it with her mark. As the group descended through the rubble, disembodied voices were broadcasted from The Fade, to the astonishment of everyone. Red lyrium veins were embedded in parts of the ruins, which spooked Varric. 

Solas informed the group that the rift must be opened in order for Brill to seal it. Brill opened it. 

The battle was relentless and raged on for far too long. A greater pride demon had torn out of the rift, enormous and brutal. They fought for what seemed like hours, and at times it seemed that they would not succeed. Lesser demons poured continuously through the rift as they focused on the beast, which further complicated their efforts. The onslaught against them came from all sides, and the battlefield was mayhem as soldiers broke rank in their efforts to escape claws and whips. Cassandra screamed orders, encouraging the soldiers to focus on the pride demon. The battle began to wane as the pride demon was weakened bit by bit with hundreds of their attacks. 

Finally, the demon fell. Soldiers flagged as they focused on the lesser demons still streaming from the rift. Exhausted voices shouted for Brill to close it before another monstrosity could get through. They could not withstand a second battle with a greater demon. Brill drew on her scant remaining mana and reached for the rift. Behind her, she heard a desperate whisper. 

"Please, let it work".

* * *

Brill woke with a start. It was dark. Her dreams had been a staccato of images, but closing the rift had been the main theme. As she failed to fully extricate herself from sleep, she noted absently that she was under a blanket and bedded down upon a straw mattress. Once again, Brill did not know either where she was or how she'd gotten there, but she was only thinking about one thing as she drifted back into unconsciousness.

_The first rift was the only rift that felt like flying._

* * *

A scuffling sound woke her much later, and Brill was relieved to see daylight when she opened her eyes. As she sat up, the sound of a door creaking quietly drew her attention. Someone was leaving the cabin. 

"Wait!" Brill called, suddenly desperate to know where she was. 

The person in the doorway froze, then re-entered the cabin, full of apologies. Without warning, the flat-ear dropped to her knees and began praising Brill. 

"Oh, do please stop that behavior," Brill snapped with annoyance. "Can you tell me where I am and what is going on?"

The girl jumped to her feet, apologizing again before informing Brill that they were in Haven, that she'd been unconscious for three days, and that the Breach hadn’t been closed, but had stopped growing. With every word spoken, the flat-ear edged towards the door. Just before closing it, the girl said "Cassandra wishes to see you at once!"

Brill was left alone for what felt like the first time in months. Yes, she could hear voices outside of the cabin, but it was blissful to be alone. No _shemlen_ to skirt around, no threatening words, definitely no shackles. She sank back into the bed, determined to savor every moment of solitude that the world would allow her. 

Too soon, Brill's stomach overrode her desire for solitude. She hadn't failed to notice the growing number of voices outside of the cabin, either, and braced herself before stepping out of the door. Hunger gave way to astonishment as she took in the sight of what had to be fifty people on and surrounding the path leading to her cabin. The crowd parted as she headed towards the center of the village. No one spoke to her, but they were certainly speaking _about_ her. To her dismay, she realized that they were praising her. Calling her the Herald of Andraste. She maintained a casual gait as she strode through town, but stiffened when she heard a man say, "When she fell out of the rift, Andraste herself was watching over her."

_I was_ in _the rift?_ She thought wildly. _That would mean I was in the Fade. No one enters the Fade. Well,_ she amended to herself, _no one has entered The Fade and returned to tell of it._

As Brill turned towards the Chantry doors, she realized that _she_ couldn’t tell of it, either. She smiled absently to herself, accidentally catching the eye of a _shemlen_ woman wearing Chantry robes, who nervously returned the smile. Brill wiped the smile off of her face. 

_Days ago, they wanted me dead. Now I am their savior._ She rolled her eyes. _The_ shemlen _are very fickle._

When she entered the foyer, Brill heard familiar angry voices coming from a room at the far end of the Chantry. She rolled her eyes and stalked to the end of the cavernous hall, stopping outside of the closed door to eavesdrop. The angry old Chantry _shemlen_ from the forward camp was insistent of Brill's guilt, but, to her surprise, Cassandra was adamant that Brill was innocent. Brill softened a bit. Perhaps some _shemlen_ were reasonable. She would withhold judgement for now. Taking a breath, she entered the room. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates are weekly on Saturdays. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	2. Foreigner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan ponders her new position within the Inquisition, and makes her first friend in Haven.
> 
> * * *
> 
> _"Am I making you nervous?" she blurted out._
> 
> _The commander's eyes widened and he let out a slight cough. "Oh! Of course not, I'm merely suggesting that we... Maker, I did not intend to be..." He trailed off, at a loss for words._

The meeting in Cassandra's war room was enlightening. Brill watched in awe as Cassandra both put the Chantry cleric in his place and established the Inquisition of old in Divine Justinia’s name. Leliana, the petite hooded woman who accompanied Cassandra during Brill's interrogation, spoke with a musical but cold voice as she supported Cassandra. Whenever the hooded _shemlen_ turned her eyes on Brill, tendrils of unease trickled down her spine. The woman oozed ruthlessness, despite her angelic features. 

Brill made a mental note to avoid her attention when at all possible. 

Slamming a heavy book onto the table, Cassandra formally declared the formation of a new Inquisition and dismissed the cleric. Brill reluctantly agreed to stick around until the Breach had been closed. She tried in vain to be as useless as possible during the discussion, even going so far as to challenge both Leliana and Cassandra several times. Despite her best efforts, the women remained convinced that Brill’s mark was necessary to their mission. They claimed that she could leave at will, but she had a strong suspicion that her absence would be noted and remedied quickly should she choose to return to her clan. It was unthinkable to Brill that she might endanger her clan by abandoning the _shemlen_ in their holy war. She found it likely that, even if she did not immediately return to Clan Lavellan, Inquisition forces would harass the clan until she was found. 

Thus, Brill decided to stay. _Only until the breach is closed_ , she told herself. They would no longer need the mark on her hand once that goal was met. What they did regarding the war between the mages and templars was their business, not hers. The sooner Brill closed the breach, the sooner she could return to the clan. 

Days passed, activity in the village going at all hours of the day. The people were turning the idea of the Inquisition into a reality. Brill was bored. No one wanted to give the blessed Herald of Andraste mundane jobs to do. 

_How will I explain this to The Keeper_? she thought as she wandered the dirt streets of Haven, lost in contemplation. The sounds of construction, messages being delivered and orders being given went unnoticed by Brill as she strolled aimlessly. She was reacquainted with reality when she crashed directly into the back of a solid, fur-clad shemlen. She gracelessly bounced off of his armor and found herself on the ground. 

"Herald! Are you quite alright?" The templar commander she'd met on the battlefield offered his hand to help her to her feet. As she took his hand, she couldn't help but notice a hint of amusement playing at the corner of his mouth. 

"I'm fine, and I apologize for running into you. Please forgive my clumsiness." She felt her cheeks burning as she spoke, and struggled to maintain eye contact. 

The commander stepped back, his smile growing broader. "It seems that making an entrance is a thing in which you are well versed." He raised his eyebrow with the tease. 

Brill laughed, despite herself. "Yes, I do enjoy being the center of attention." She winked at him, then cringed internally, _Do not wink at the commander_. She took a step back and continued, "I will let you return to your duties." Brill turned to leave, taking care to move with grace lest he think her as clumsy as a druffalo. 

"Wait." It was a command, and Brill turned back to him without thinking. She looked at him eyebrows raised slightly in question. 

"We haven't spoken, with all that's been going on here in Haven. It would be prudent to get to know one another. Given that we will be working together closely in the coming weeks, of course." He glanced away for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck. 

_Is he nervous_ ? Brill thought. _Why?_

“Have I done something to make you nervous?" she blurted out.

The commander's eyes widened and he let out a slight cough. "Oh! Of course not, I'm merely suggesting that we... Maker, I did not intend to be..." He trailed off and stared at her blankly, at a loss for words. 

Brill, knowing she had flustered the man, gave him a grin. "Commander, I am teasing you. Of course we should spend some time talking. Do you have a moment now?" Pleased that she had gained the upper hand, she noted that the man was easily ruffled. 

Composing himself, the commander cleared his throat, "I will be running drills with my troops all afternoon. Care to join me in the tavern this evening?"

"I'll be there." Brill took her leave, intent on finding the safety of her cabin. 

* * *

Brill paced in the cabin, struggling with feelings of isolation. She was out of her depth. There were no Dalish in Haven, none that she'd seen, anyway. Her history with _shemlen_ was limited. She knew _of_ humans, of course, she had interacted with them many times. But friendship or anything other than a transactional or adversarial relationship with one? No. Brill never had, nor wanted to have a relationship with any. Brill knew that she needed to uphold an image of confidence and experience that she did not have. _Shemlen_ were known to always be on the lookout for weakness within her people. 

It was a game of sorts, really. Every interaction with _shemlen_ was a competition of observation and wit. Which party would come out on top? This question was at the forefront of any elf/human encounter, and true of both sides. She would have to be always aware, always assessing the situation. 

She could befriend the other elves in Haven. There were several, but...

But they were flat-ears. All but one, anyway. The flat-ears were servants to _shemlen_. They treated the humans with deference, always the first to step off of the path to make room when they passed one. The flat-ears took orders, were submissive and fearful. They had no pride. 

Brill pitied the flat-ears, in a way. They didn't know any better. Occasionally, city elves had found their pride and left their alienage to join the Dalish. Of those, few had fully integrated with and embraced the Dalish life. They were too dependent on the status quo, more often than not returning to their subservient way of life. In that respect, Brill felt that she had more in common with the _shemlen_ than with the flat-ears. 

That left Solas. He was her only hope if she was to have a like-minded ally in Haven. He seemed to have integrated well within the Inquisition. Brill had seen him interacting with many of the townspeople. Cassandra obviously trusted him. She wondered what to make of him. Brill was at a loss. Where had he come from? Why had he allied himself with the Inquisition?

Having no answers, Brill flopped backwards onto the straw mattress. It was clear that she would have to speak with Solas, either to take cues for interacting with the _shemlen_ , or to discover his purpose with the Inquisition. In any case, her appointment with the commander was in an hour, and it was time to get ready. 

* * *

Brill entered The Singing Maiden, hoping that she eschewed confidence and grace. She looked around, finally spotting the commander at a table across the room near the side door. She walked to his table, nodding to the various people she passed as she made her way through the crowd. 

Commander Cullen glanced up from his papers and saw her, immediately standing and pulling out her chair. "Thank you for coming, Herald," he said, returning to his seat once she was situated. "I hope that your afternoon was an enjoyable one." 

Brill gave him a smile. "It was, thank you. It looks as though yours was not as relaxing as mine," she said, pointedly eyeing his paperwork.

The commander hastily collected the papers into a neat pile. "You've caught me. Leading an army is a new challenge, one which I am loath to meet with anything less than my best effort." He set the stack of papers to the side, making it clear that his full attention would be on Brill for the time being. 

There was an awkward silence as both Brill and the commander struggled to choose a topic. 

"Why did you join-"

"Where is your cl-"

Both of them stopped abruptly as they realized that they were talking over each other. Their eyes met hesitantly, worried that they might have caused offense. When they saw their concern mirrored in each other's eyes, both of them burst out laughing. 

Laughter subsided, Brill spoke first, eyes down. 

"Commander, if I may be frank, I am a bit nervous. I am unsure whether it is that you are _shemlen_ or that you are a templar. Either should give me cause for trepidation." She looked up at him then, hoping to find something in his face to calm her fears. 

His eyes were wide, and he leaned back. "My Lady Herald, have I given you reason to fear me? I assure you that no one in Haven means you any ill will. You are the key to our success. Without you, we have no way to close The Breach." 

Brill sighed, "That's just it. I am nothing more than a tool, perhaps a holy relic. But no one here sees me as a person. I fear that when I fail to meet expectations, the veil will be lifted and I will again be a knife-ear and a savage, or an abomination waiting to happen." She sat back in her chair and averted her eyes, feeling more than a little embarrassed that she'd allowed him a glimpse of her misgivings. She began to worry that he would think she planned to run. Visions of him insisting she be locked up immediately to prevent her desertion plagued her mind. 

The commander was silent, and she looked up to see his brows furrowed as he surveyed her. Brill imagined the gears of his mind turning as he considered the possibility of her leaving in the dark of night. 

He leaned forward in his chair, forcing her to meet his eyes. "I will not let harm come to you. If you like, I will assign a protective detail to keep watch while you are here." He paused, hesitating for a moment before continuing, "I hadn't... no, _we_ hadn't considered what this situation must be like from your perspective. It's a wonder you didn't run the moment you woke in your cabin. The fact that you didn't speaks volumes of your character. I apologize, Lady Herald." He reached for her hand. Brill took it. "Please know that you are as much a part of the Inquisition as the rest of us. It is my vow that you will be safe here. You are one of us." 

He let go of her hand and leaned back, then smiled at her with a wink. "Whether you want to be or not." 

* * *

The commander walked her to her cabin after they'd finished their meal. Their conversation was light, but comfortable, and Brill was glad that she’d shared her feelings with him. She now had a better understanding of her position within the Inquisition. Though she remained wary, it was comforting to know that her input and contribution was valued beyond the unwelcome mark on her hand. 

The two said their goodnights, and Brill entered her cabin, eager to get some rest. Cassandra had called for a meeting first thing in the morning, as Josephine, the Inquisition’s ambassador, was satisfied with the progress they'd made as an organization. Banners were flying, writs had been posted, letters had been sent to people of import across Thedas. The Inquisition was officially official, and it was time for them to plan their next move. 

Brill considered the Inquisition as she undressed herself for bed. She knew that the advisors were deeply invested in the war between the mages and the templars. She had no doubt that their plans beyond closing the Breach would become political. Brill did not have patience for politics. She did not care who won the war, so long as it ended. It was a _shemlen_ conflict, and besides disrupting her clan's ability to safely travel and trade, the war itself had very little impact on her life. The aftermath of the war, however, would likely affect all of Thedas, the Dalish included. 

She froze in her smalls as the realization hit. She had landed in a position to potentially influence not only how the war ended, but also the reform that would surely come after. If she maneuvered correctly, her influence could uplift the elves. She could tear down centuries of subjugation. If the circles could be disbanded, so could alienages. A thrill went through her as her mind raced with possibilities. This was leagues better than what Deshanna had imagined when he’d sent her to watch. 

A yawn broke her thoughts, and she walked toward the bed to retrieve her nightshirt.

"Ah!" She yelped, stepping on something hard and sharp. She bent down, balancing on her toes as she ran her fingers along the floor in the dark to find the offending item. She had it in hand when the door to her cabin burst open. 

"Herald! Are you hurt?" Commander Cullen strode into the room, sword at the ready, eyes darting furiously around the tiny space in an attempt to find whatever or whoever had attacked Brill. 

Startled by his sudden entrance, Brill toppled over when her feet tangled as she tried to stand. Using the bed as a handhold, she pulled herself upright. "Commander, what are you doing here? I would have thought you'd be in your quarters by now," She placed the offending object on her bedside table and held her nightshirt in front of her bare torso. 

Realizing that they were alone, the commander sheathed his sword and looked at her. His eyebrows shot up to meet his hairline as he noticed her undressed state, and he hastily averted his eyes. "I, uh...” he coughed, “I heard you cry out. I thought that maybe you needed help." He was edging his way towards the door. 

"But how did you hear me from the Chantry?" she asked. 

He stopped and rubbed the back of his neck, refusing to make eye contact. "I, well, it is too late to assign men to your protection, so I had it in mind to work the first shift myself." His cheeks were blazing red, blatant even in the dim light. 

"Commander, that is unnecessary. I have been perfectly safe every other night. And you must sleep." 

"I... I don't sleep much," he muttered. "It is not an issue. I will keep watch while you get your rest. Goodnight, Herald."

Before she could protest, he was out the door. 

* * *

Brill lay in her bed, drifting off to sleep, when she remembered the object she'd stepped on. In all the excitement, she had completely forgotten about it. She rolled over and plucked the item off of her bed table. In the darkness, it was difficult to be sure, but she could swear that her attacker was a wolf tooth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Christmas Eve! Chapter 2 released early for the holidays. 
> 
> Regularly scheduled posting will occur on Saturday.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	3. Hierophant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan tackles problems in the Hinterlands with the help of Cassandra, Solas, and Varric. She learns firsthand why mages fear templars.
> 
> * * *
> 
> _"Solas!" the Seeker's voice rang out from just next to Brill, causing another jolt of pain to flash through her head, coils of nausea snaking through her belly. "She is waking!"_
> 
> _"Cassandra," Brill managed to gasp weakly, "could you please refrain from yelling? I fear the damage you may do will be permanent."_

During the meeting, the advisors could agree on only one thing: the Inquisition had to travel to the Hinterlands. Josephine had exhausted her connections, finding no one of note who was willing to publicly support the Inquisition in its infancy. Leliana had meanwhile been in contact with a Chantry cleric named Mother Giselle. The Chantry mother had some influence amongst the surviving members of the Chantry, and might be useful for gathering more support on that end. 

Brill was excited to get out of Haven. She was bored out of her mind. Village life was not ideal. She longed to travel, to see new landscapes and places.

The group decided that Brill would leave the next day with a contingent of the Inquisition’s fledgling army, further accompanied by Cassandra, Varric Tethras, and Solas. Leliana’s head scout, Harding, had already gone ahead and established a base camp in the area. Once they arrived, finding Mother Giselle and establishing strongholds around the region were the top priority. Josephine was adamant that Brill be seen closing the rifts that had been reported around the Hinterlands. Word of mouth was a powerful weapon, one that the Inquisition could use to force those in higher positions to take note of their contributions and progress as an organization. 

Brill was disappointed that the commander would not be coming along. It made sense, of course. New recruits were arriving in Haven daily, and he would be busy assigning and training them. Furthermore, Brill was expected to be gone for weeks, and the Inquisition could not risk having their commander absent from command for such a long period of time. 

Even so, she lamented his absence as they set off the next morning. Somehow, he had become her only friend in Haven. 

Brill had gone looking for Solas after the advisors’ meeting the day before, determined to pinpoint his intentions. He was pleasant and well-spoken, but aloof. At first. The subject of elves had come up, and Brill had asked him to speak on them. He'd responded rudely, 

"You are Dalish, are you not?" 

“Proudly so,” 

What commenced was a calm but disgusted tirade against Dalish history and tradition. He had categorically informed her that the Dalish had lost all that once made the Elvhen a great and powerful race. Brill was taken aback, offended at Solas's dismissal of her identity. He looked at her arrogantly while she considered a response. She recalled a comment he'd made on the day that they’d met. He had been shunned by a Dalish clan; obviously he was still bitter. They'd called him flat-ear and driven him off when he tried to share his knowledge. Brill concluded that he was a man true to his name. Pride. He wanted to share what he knew, to teach, and would not accept being challenged by those he deemed ignorant. Like her. 

Opting for deference in an appeal to his hubris, she'd called him _hahren_. She then apologized for his treatment at the hands of the Dalish. Solas was thoroughly chastised, responding in kind, 

_Ir abelas, da'len._

The conversation had righted itself, but neither elf had gained any genuine understanding of the other. Brill got the feeling that Solas was trying to get under her skin. He wanted her off balance, unsure of her place, but she didn't know why. In any case, she had not found a like-minded ally in the elf, nor had she found any clues as to his purpose within the Inquisition, other than his claim of being "an expert on The Fade". 

The Inquisition party headed south, Brill flanked on either side by Varric and Cassandra, both of whom seemed absolutely intent upon pissing each other off. Solas was in the party, too, though he was consistently on the outskirts of the large group, speaking to no one except when necessary. Brill resolved to enjoy the trip, regardless of the surly company. 

* * *

After six days of uneventful, albeit invigorating, travel, the group arrived at Scout Harding's camp. Brill was content to wash up and refresh upon arrival, but the sounds of fighting nearby were too much for Cassandra to ignore. 

"We cannot sit idly by while innocents are caught up in this... idiocy!" she snapped at no one in particular. Varric perked up, always eager to needle Cassandra, but Brill spoke before he could start in on her. 

"Cassandra, let's first get our bearings. After we’re settled, the four of us can check it out." She looked at Cassandra, hoping to convey that it would be dealt with, but a few more minutes would make no difference. 

Cassandra looked as though she were going to disagree, but then relaxed. Slightly. "I will change my boots while you get ‘settled’." She stalked off towards the tent that she would be sharing with Brill. 

Varric looked at Brill from the corner of his eye. "I don't know how you do it, Frosty. The Seeker is stubborn." Varric had taken to calling her Frosty on their journey to the Hinterlands, evidently in reference to her proficiency with ice magic. 

"You know, Varric, she might be less so if you would occasionally let up on her. You're constantly looking for ways to rile her up." Brill raised an eyebrow at him in mock reproach. 

Varric's face closed up abruptly. "She wanted something from me that I couldn't give. She doesn't take ‘no’ for an answer. Like I said. She’s stubborn." He turned away from her, giving all of his attention to oiling his crossbow. 

Brill’s cheeks burned, and she felt the tips of her ears turn red. She was under the impression that Cassandra’s and Varric’s relationship was an antagonistic, but friendly one. Cassandra was rather prickly, after all, and Varric was known to tease. Varric's response told her otherwise. Something unpleasant had happened between the two of them, and she felt terrible for not realizing that their arguing came from a place of genuine distast. 

"I'm sorry, Varric. I didn't realize-"

"Well, you wouldn't, would you? Not like you've been real eager to get to know any of us. You -" He trailed off, shoulders sagging. "You know what? It doesn't matter. The Seeker and I will work it out, eventually. You just worry about sealing those rifts, okay? Then, maybe life can go back to normal." 

Brill was at a loss. What had she done? The dwarf wanted to get to know her? She had assumed that _she_ was the outsider, that this group she had joined was an established party and she was late to it. Perhaps she wasn’t the only one who was feeling isolated. She fiddled with the wolf tooth in her pocket, contemplating. 

Cassandra stormed out of her tent, just as agitated as she'd been before the boot change. 

"I am ready to go. I will not have any more lives on my head. You can join me, or not. I intend to stop this reckless fighting." She stalked off down the path. 

Brill grabbed her staff, more than happy to escape her awkward introspection. "Solas, Varric, let's go," she said, and jogged after Cassandra. 

* * *

The Crossroads was in chaos. Villagers ran every which way, screaming at the combatants to take their destructive warring away from civilization. They were herding children, livestock, and one another to safety in a panic. Safety, from what Brill saw, did not look to be tangible. A hut in the village was on fire, threatening to spread to the buildings nearby. People streamed out of the conflagration, searching desperately for a new refuge. The livestock were running wild, too terrified for the shepherds to guide them. Amidst it all, apostates and rogue templars were locked in battle, oblivious to the mayhem they were creating.

The templars attacked with abandon, targeting anyone not a fellow templar. They were lost in their bloodlust, and the same was true of the apostates. Brill was astonished that they were able to avoid killing members of their respective groups. Neither group took care to avoid civilian casualties. As they ran towards the fray, the group watched helplessly as a farmer, chasing after a wayward sheep, was set aflame by an apostate, and quickly cut down by a passing templar. 

“The mages have gone mad!” Cassandra bellowed as they ran. 

Solas yelled back, “The templars, too!” 

Finally, they reached the battlefield. Cassandra, horrified, appealed to the bloodthirsty templars to stop the madness. She was shocked when they turned their aggression on her. 

“Cassandra, I do not think they care,” Solas shouted to be heard over the din. 

The group threw themselves into the melee. 

Brill was frightened. Her experience with battle of any kind was extremely limited, having only been involved in a few minor skirmishes with _shemlen_ over the course of her life. She had never fought hardened soldiers, to say nothing of templars who had the power to smite her where she stood. She had never killed anyone in battle. Presently, Brill avoided offense, opting instead to hold back and support her allies in the fight. She put up barriers around Cassandra and Varric, fortified Solas's magic with her own, but she did not attack their aggressors. She temporarily froze a small group of templars when they backed Varric up against a decrepit barn. 

Inquisition forces soon joined from the camp, and her focus was consumed with keeping their soldiers safe. She cast more barriers, dispelled damaging magic, and watched over the battlefield with wide eyes. She laid ice runes to trip up the enemy and forged a few ice walls to contain the especially threatening entities on the field. Brill’s panic subsided as she settled into the rhythm of battle. She had lost sight of Varric and Solas, though she could hear Varric shouting insults at his opponents from somewhere nearby. 

Without warning, Brill felt a sharp, foreign pull on her barrier. She was abruptly sapped of mana and turned upside down. Her head glanced off of a small boulder that was marking a fork in the road, stunning her. Brill’s traitorous body folded up on itself and she was a tangle of limbs in the dirt. She tried to call out, but she couldn't gather enough air in her lungs.

Fire. She was on fire. She had to be. She felt every individual nerve in her body combust, searing her from the inside out. Her mana was gone, her magic, useless. All of her muscles and tendons contracted painfully at once, contorting her into a grisly pose, back arched, limbs rigid and askew. A savage shriek erupted from her then, tearing her throat with its force. She lost herself to the pain, trying to get away but incapable of movement. 

Brill’s vision began to fade, her brain shutting down to relieve her of the agony. In the haze, she heard Cassandra, her voice sounding tinny and far off, shout "The Herald! She needs help!" 

Reality faded. Brill gratefully embraced the nothingness. 

* * *

Solas walks toward her, anguish stitched in his brows. He takes her hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. 

"You are hurt," he says, "Come back to us. I can help."

Brill scoffs. "Yes, _hahren_ , you wish to help. You are entirely too eager to help." She has no patience for his arrogance. She tried to know him. He rebuffed her. It is too late for amends to be made. 

Solas tightens his grip on her hand. He stoops down, leveling his eyes with hers.

"You must wake up. There is no other option."

Brill tries to turn away, but he catches her chin in his other hand, forcing her to meet his eyes. 

"I've walked the Fade and felt you there. Our fates are tied and you must face this pain while I am working to restore you," He leans in close, and Brill smells him, hints of petrichor and ozone and sandalwood infiltrating her nose, sticking pleasantly in the back of her throat. His voice low, he continues, "the pain is great but you'll come through. I will not let you give up; the whole of Thedas requires you for salvation," 

His eyes are both parts impassioned and desperate, a far cry from his usual placid demeanor. "Herald, will you come back to us? You must wake up soon, or all is lost."

Brill considers this, not understanding his intensity. "I must seal the breach and end this. Everyone is counting on me." 

Solas slumps in relief, and Brill asks him, "Did you feel it? The rift chaos? It was... the most incredible thing I have ever felt. What do you think it was?"

Solas stands hastily and walks away. Brill's eyes swim out of focus until she's once again enveloped in blackness. 

* * *

Muted conversation drifted into Brill's semi conscious thoughts as she began to wake. She opened one eye, the brilliant sunlight blinding her as it stabbed past her eyes, piercing her brain. She scrunched her eyes shut as tightly as she could and groaned softly in agony. 

Her head pounded, every heartbeat sending a pulse of pain through her skull. She tried to turn on her side, wanting to get up, but her abdomen screamed against the motion. 

_I suppose I'll just stay here, then._ She thought. Thirst threatened to choke her, and she weakly cleared her throat. 

"Solas!" the Seeker's voice rang out from just next to Brill, causing another jolt of pain to flash through her head, coils of nausea snaking through her belly. "She is waking!" 

"Cassandra," Brill managed to gasp weakly, "could you please refrain from yelling? I fear the damage you may do will be permanent." 

Cassandra let out a nervous laugh, uncharacteristically rattled. "I am sorry, Herald. Can you sit up? Open your eyes? I have water for you to drink. Solas insisted that we withhold healing potions." Her voice was simmering with irritation. 

"If I am honest, I don't think I can sit up. I would much prefer to remain lying here motionless forever, thank you." Brill's voice sounded raspy to her own ears, and speaking caused her throat to feel as though half-healed tears were ripped open again. 

"Solas is on his way," Cassandra informed her. "You were struck with a Holy Smite by one of the mad templars. Solas guessed that the smite was made more intense by the magic in your hand. It nearly killed you." 

“It was not a guess,” said a new voice beside her, “I am certain that the mark augmented the effects of the smite.” Solas continued, his voice impassive, "Cassandra, I believe Mother Giselle wishes to speak with you.”

Brill could feel it when Cassandra tensed, but she eventually huffed and stomped off. She was alone with Solas. He leaned in close and spoke softly in her ear, "Thank you for returning,"

Resuming a normal volume, he continued, "I think I can relieve the pain and repair the damage you sustained from the templar's smite. May I touch you? I must find your injuries." 

Brill nodded slowly, wondering what type of magic he would use to tackle fade-enhanced smite damage. His warm palm gently cupped her forehead, and she was flooded with his magic. 

The feel of his magic was familiar, but distinctly foreign. She’d definitely felt his magic before, when they had closed the first rift together. Then, the magic had been wild, dominating, uncontrollable. She had been consumed by it, her magic intertwining with his, powered by the rift, neither of them having control. Brill had pushed into him then, wanting more, hysterical with the need to have more. He had pushed back, his need echoing hers. 

At present, though his magic flowed through her, it remained separate from her own. He was restrained and focused on her injured parts. She felt the wisps of his mana sliding past hers, probing for places to heal. It was comforting, and Brill relaxed, nearly dozing off as he worked. Too soon, the wonderful magic withdrew. 

"You may try to sit up. You will likely be sore, and you will need to avoid closing rifts for a few days while your mana fully recovers, but I suspect you will be as good as new," Solas sounded pleased with himself. 

Brill sat up sluggishly, feeling no pain or discomfort. She peered hesitantly through one narrowed eye, finding that she could withstand the light. Relief flooded through her. She hadn't realized how tense she’d been with pain until it was gone. 

"What did you do?" She had asked him this before. 

This time, he gave her a wan smile and replied, "One can learn much in the Fade, if you know where to look."

* * *

The next two weeks were a blur of activity. Brill had sent Mother Giselle to Haven, along with the local horse master and a stable of horses. They were accompanied by a small contingent of Inquisition soldiers to maintain their safety on the road. Ravens were dispatched with updates to the advisors waiting in Haven, mostly regarding rift sightings and closings. 

When they'd first arrived, Cassandra was the default executive of their operations, but she had begun to defer to Brill more frequently. Consequently, the Inquisition forces also began to turn to Brill for their orders. Brill thrived with her newfound authority, launching a burst of Inquisition activity in the Hinterlands.

She directed a small group to garner supplies, then sent a detachment of soldiers with the materials to build watchtowers near the farming community. Archers were consigned to the woods with orders to hunt game for the villagers at the Crossroads, their supplies had been decimated during the warfare. Residual apostates and templar groups were driven out of the region by Inquisition troops, Brill arranging for her scouts to claim the abandoned supplies at their camps for distribution. There were also bears. A lot of bears. 

Brill managed all of this whilst traipsing around the countryside, closing rifts and killing demons with Solas, Cassandra, and Varric by her side. They scouted out locations for the Inquisition to set up camps, solidifying their presence in the region. 

The four of them grew close, discovering each other's strengths and weaknesses in battle. The bond between brothers in arms is a unique one. There is a euphoria at the end of a battle, when each soldier realizes how close they were to death, to losing each other. Survival after survival built absolute faith between Brill and her team, forging a creed that they would always be at each other's backs, protecting their weak sides. It was not friendship, not quite, but it was a connection unlike any Brill had known. 

Riding high on her accomplishments, Brill took her failure at Redcliffe, the largest village in the region, hard. The gates were shut, and the guards refused her entry. Brill had yelled. She had pleaded. She tried to sneak over the walls, which displeased Cassandra, much to Varric's delight. That escapade ended with a dislocated shoulder and a goose egg on her forehead, courtesy of a rock hurled at her by a guard as she retreated down the wall.

Her own efforts ineffectual, she'd sent missives to Josephine, asking her to contact the local arl, but Redcliffe remained silent and closed off to outsiders. The Inquisition was presumably unwelcome, and there were no more rifts to seal. After weeks of nonstop work and travel, Brill grew anxious, sitting stalled in camp for two straight days, brainstorming fruitlessly for a way to enter Redcliffe. 

Tense with frustration, Brill took a walk in the area, making sure to keep the camp’s fire in sight. Dusk had fallen, the stars just beginning to peek through the hazy clouds above. She spotted a slender figure sitting on a fallen log a good distance away. She approached cautiously, and relaxed when she saw it was Solas. 

He was painting a flat rock with a bit of mud when Brill sat down next to him. He did not look up, so she settled for gazing at the stars while he painted. The silence between them stretched on, and she felt apprehension building inside of her. Countless times since Solas had healed her, she'd caught him watching her when he thought she was distracted. Each time she’d caught his eyes, he had looked away, brows faintly furrowed, the corners of his mouth tense. She knew that something was troubling him, but she did not know how to broach the subject. 

"What do you need?" Solas asked, not looking up from his rock. 

Brill started at the abruptly broken silence. The words tumbled out of her, even though she knew he would not appreciate her asking, "Is there something wrong, Solas?"

He didn't look up from his painting. "Why?" 

"You've seemed... disturbed, recently."

For the briefest moment, he paused. Recovering, he replied, "I do not see how my concerns would be any of yours." 

_Oh, this is going well._ Brill sighed loudly. "If there is a problem, I should know of it. It is important to our cause that we are not distracted. I can help if you need it."

He finally looked up from the rock. His eyes were cold, his voice clipped. "If I were disturbed, and if it would affect the Inquisition, you would know of it. As it is, I have no problem, nor am I in need of your help." He tossed the rock down as he stood. "If there is nothing more, I will take my leave." Without waiting for a reply, he stalked off towards the fire. 

Brill sat in shock, watching him go. She could not understand the man. He was always nearby, yet always keeping her at a distance. Each time she tried to bridge the invisible gap between them, he widened it. Her thoughts turned, as they nearly always did when they came to him, to the day they had closed the rift. She still didn't know if he had felt what she did that day, not that she could name it. Was he angry that she had been forced upon him in that strangely intimate moment? It made sense, him being a deeply private man. Regardless, the experience had been fantastical. How could an experience that potent, cause him to hate her? 

She shook her head and stood up, ready to turn in for the night. She took a step and felt a rock beneath her foot. His rock. Glancing around to be sure no one saw, she picked it up. He had painted a wolf. With six eyes. 

* * *

Morning came quickly, and just as they finished their breakfast, a raven arrived. Brill snatched the message from the scout, hopeful for news from Arl Teagan of Redcliffe. 

> _Herald,_
> 
> _Mother Giselle has received word that the clerics are meeting in Val Royeaux in a month's time. It is imperative that Inquisition is involved in the decisions made at that time. You must give up your siege on Redcliffe and return to Haven at once for preparations._
> 
> _Travel in haste and health,_
> 
> _Josephine_

Brill read the letter out loud. When she was finished, Cassandra sighed heavily. "I will prepare the horses."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas! I hope you enjoyed the holiday bonus posting. 
> 
> Chapter 4 will drop on Saturday.
> 
> **A Seeker, two apostates, and a dwarf enter the Hinterlands...**. Hahaha (I'm sorry)


	4. Solivagant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan returns to Haven, and discovers that she hasn't yet fully recovered from the Holy Smite.
> 
> * * *
> 
> _"Solas, what is your meaning?" Brill turned on the smug elf, irritation flashing in her eyes. She strode over to him, fists clenched. "As Cullen said, I am perfectly capable of choosing my own bed time."_
> 
> _Solas raised his brows slightly, unperturbed. "That you are, though your ability to choose appropriate companions seems quite limited, _da'len_." The last word was dripping with sarcasm as he folded his hands behind his back, the picture of calm._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Possible TW: PTSD induced panic**

On horseback with only four people, the return trip to Haven was cut nearly in half. The party arrived during the late afternoon on their third day of travel, exhausted but otherwise relieved to be out of their saddles. Commander Cullen greeted them at the gates, not bothering to hide his smile when he saw Brill. Cassandra walked the horses to the stables to reunite them with Horsemaster Dennet. Varric and Solas made their way through Haven’s gates, Solas glancing back as Brill stopped to speak with the commander. 

"My lady Herald, welcome back." He bowed his head to Brill in high spirits. "We have received numerous reports of your influence in the Hinterlands. Job well done." 

He leaned in close and said softly, "I was hoping to treat you to dinner this evening, once you've settled in. Would you meet me at the tavern later?"

Brill was enthusiastic at the thought of a hot, fresh meal. Her traveling party had been a foursome of terrible cooks. "I am absolutely starving, Commander. Meet you there in an hour?" She smiled broadly at him, pleased to be in his friendly company again. 

"I will ensure that there is fresh bread on the table when you arrive. I will see you soon." He nodded a goodbye and strode away through the gates, leaving her behind. Brill dashed to her cabin, eager to remove her filthy armor and take a bath. 

* * *

Entering the tavern felt almost like coming home. Brill had never had a place to call home, her clan rarely residing in one place for longer than a month. She was surprised at how comfortable she felt as she squeezed through the crowd, the sounds of camaraderie and bawdy drinking songs swirling around her. The smell of freshly baked bread invaded her nose, her stomach rumbling in anticipation.

Brill found the commander at his usual table by the fire, and was pleased to see a basket of bread and a dish of butter in the center. The fire cast a soft glow across the table, and she sat back in her chair, brimming with contentment. She ate languidly, enjoying her meal while she and Cullen swapped stories from the past weeks. He had spent his time training new recruits and quelling tensions between the former templars and mages who had joined up. Chancellor Roderick, the angry Chantry _shemlen_ , had followed the commander around for weeks, harassing him at every opportunity.

“The man is exasperating,” Cullen was saying, “he is unhappy no matter what we do, and he likes to rile up the devout in the village.”

Brill considered this. “We could banish him. Send him to Val Royeaux, where he can hole up with the other clerics in fear of the knife-eared Herald,” she smiled derisively. 

Cullen chuckled, then sighed resignedly. “He’s toothless. If we sent him away, he would be an instant martyr. That would be more damaging than anything he could do here.”

Brill agreed, and they moved on to more pleasant topics. Their conversation was easy, and she was again surprised at how easily she had befriended a human. She had stopped thinking of him as _shemlen_. He was simply Commander Cullen. Friend. 

As the evening wore on, people stopped by the table to ask Brill about her adventures in the Hinterlands, or simply to say hello. None of her visitors took a seat with the pair, each leaving her and Cullen to enjoy their quiet conversation beneath the din of merriment. As they talked, they leaned closer over the table, heads tilted toward each other to better hear over the noise. Eventually, bellies full and eyes bleary, they decided to call it a night. 

They didn't talk much as Cullen escorted her to her cabin. She attempted to send him to his own room, but he gallantly refused to let her walk the streets alone in the dark. They did not touch, but walked closely enough that their arms occasionally brushed together. When they arrived at her door she turned to say goodnight, pausing when she saw the strange look on his face. He took in a breath as though to speak, but let it out, absent of words. She waited. 

"I forget sometimes that you are a mage," he said absently, reaching out to take her hand gently in his. Brill, heart in her throat, said nothing, wondering how her status as a mage was in any way relevant. She leaned against her door, waiting for him to continue. 

Instead of finishing his thought, he placed his palm on the door behind her, the coarse fur of his armor brushing against her cheek. His eyes shone as he gazed down at her and leaned in close. He hesitated, his breath gently caressing her lips. She instinctively moved towards him, surprised as much at his sudden interest as she was to find hers piqued in tandem. 

"Commander Cullen, do you make a habit of cornering lone women on the streets in the middle of the night?" A clear, derisive voice rang out from behind Cullen. 

Cullen jumped back, turning away from Brill to see who had spoken. Brill already knew. 

Solas stepped into view, an expression of disdain spread across his face. "You would do well to leave the Herald to her rest, Commander," he continued, voice level, "she is exhausted and should be sleeping off her travel fatigue." 

Brill could not see Cullen’s face, but she could detect annoyance in his tone when he replied, "I am certain that the Herald is perfectly capable of deciding her own bedtime, mage." He took a step away from the cabin and turned to face Brill, arms crossed. "The hour is late, Herald. You may retire. If that is what you wish, of course." Regret was plain in the set of his mouth, though she couldn't determine whether it was regret that they'd been interrupted or regret that he had nearly kissed her. 

She gave him a small smile, "Goodnight, Commander. Thank you for a lovely evening."

He stared at her blankly for a moment. "Goodnight, then," he replied brusquely. Cullen spun on his heel, shooting a look at Solas, and walked away in the direction of the Chantry. 

"Solas, what is your meaning?" Brill turned on the smug elf, irritation flashing in her eyes. She strode over to him, fists clenched. "As Cullen said, I am perfectly capable of choosing my own bed time." 

He raised his brows slightly, unperturbed. "That you are, though your ability to choose appropriate companions seems quite limited, _da'len_." The last word was dripping with sarcasm, and he folded his hands behind his back, the picture of calm. 

"And what, exactly, do you find problematic with my choice of companions, Solas?" Brill demanded hotly, "furthermore, how is it any concern of yours?"

Solas's expression softened a little. "Herald, have you not heard the stories of our dashing commander? Has he not mentioned his past?" Brill paused, confused, and Solas took a deep breath, "The man has spent over half of his life as a jailer of mages. Templar nature would never allow him to have a true relationship with a mage." 

Brill froze. She had forgotten that Cullen was a former templar. Bile rose in her throat and blood roared in her ears as she was reeled back into the horror of the Holy Smite she had received in the Hinterlands. She was at the Crossroads all over again,

_(she tries to scream)_

on the ground, 

_(she cannot move)_

paralyzed, 

_(crippling pain drives her to madness)_

no agency to escape either the agony or her attacker. Brill began to hyperventilate, 

_(her wild eyes meet his)_

taking quick breaths terrifyingly absent of the oxygen she sought, 

_(silently pleading with him to spare her)_

panic threatening to overtake her. 

_(Cullen's face leers at her, bringing his sword down to her throat she can't move she can't move she can't move she must scream she must move)_

Brill gasped as Solas grabbed her arms and shook her roughly. 

"Herald. Brill!" he shouted. Her shell-shocked eyes met his and, to her horror, she burst into tears and collapsed in his arms. She sobbed as the stress of the past month drained out of her. He stiffened, then guided her into the cabin as she wept openly. They stood in the cabin, his arms tightly around her, fingers gently stroking her back as she cried helplessly, dampening his tunic with her tears. 

He whispered elvish in her ear, " _Ir abelas, ma falon. Ma ane souven_." He continued on, much of what he said unintelligible, washed away by the babble of her weeping. 

Eventually, she ran out of tears, and she found herself struggling to stay standing, knees weak and limbs heavy. Extricating herself from Solas's embrace, she apologized. "I am sorry, Solas. This will not happen again. _Ma serranas_." 

Solas was already at the door. "See that it does not. The Inquisition needs you fit and whole." He left her standing in her cabin, mortified, once again completely alone. 

* * *

Preparations for the upcoming trip to Val Royeaux began the next morning. Josephine and Leliana could not agree on whether they should send a small contingent of the Inquisition's key players to act as ambassadors, or opt for a stronger facade by bringing along a portion of their troops.

"Josephine, they must know we have numbers. We must intimidate our audience," Leliana paced to and fro at her end of the massive war table, her voice passionate. "The Chantry has publicly denounced us. The people must see that we are strong, that we have support!" 

Josephine sniffed, "Yes, Leliana, you have mentioned that several times. Must we continue this pointless, circular argument?" She looked at Brill, silently requesting backup. Brill sat up in her chair, where she’d been sitting with her chin in her hand, bored of the argument that was going nowhere. Josephine continued, "The Orlesians will not appreciate a Fereldan army marching across their lands towards the capital. It will be taken as aggression."

"Can we not send word of our plans beforehand?" Brill asked, glad to finally be included in the discussion. "They would not attack if they knew we meant no harm." 

"That would be true, were it not for the ongoing civil war in Orlais. Gaspard would surely use our presence to further his cause against Empress Celene," Josephine sighed heavily. "And the Inquisition would be lost in its infancy." 

Brill stood up. "Thank you Josphine. That makes perfect sense. I will leave in a week. Solas, Varric, and Cassandra will accompany me. The trip will take less time with only the four of us." 

Cassandra nodded and left the room. Leliana's glare bore into Brill as she asked coldly, "And when did we grant you the authority to make this decision?" 

"About an hour ago, when it became clear that you and Josephine were never going to come to a decision yourselves." Brill snarked, forgetting momentarily that this woman was the scariest person in Haven. "I will inform Varric and Solas of our plans." 

"Wait, please, Herald," Cullen, who had had very little to say during the painfully long meeting, spoke up. "I would like to accompany your party, if I may. It is likely that there will be templars in the capital. If so, my presence might be enough to convince some to join the Inquisition." He tried to catch her eye, but Brill could not look at him, 

_(He towers over her, driving his sword down)_

"I am not convinced that that is necessary, Commander," she said quickly, desperate to leave the room. 

"Herald, he does have a point," Josephine looked intrigued. "Take Commander Cullen with you. He may be exactly what we need to achieve Leliana’s goal. A show of force and influence, without the risk of hostilities. It's perfect." She looked to Leliana, who was nodding in agreement. 

"Welcome aboard, Commander," Brill said, resigned. "Thank you, everyone." She rushed out of the room, seeking the refuge of her cabin. 

* * *

A knock at the door pulled Brill from her pointless daydream, and she jumped off of her bed to answer, puzzled. The people in Haven rarely sought her out. 

Cassandra was at the door, wringing her hands. "Herald," she said with trepidation, "may I come in?"

"Of course, Cassandra," Brill replied, stepping aside to make room for her entrance. She closed the door and they each took a seat at the nearby table. 

"I must apologize. To you." Cassandra began, looking troubled. 

"What for?" Brill asked, genuinely perplexed. She reached over to grab two cups and a bottle of wine that had been sitting on the table since she'd awoken in Haven. It seemed this was going to be the type of conversation made easier with alcohol. 

"I misjudged you, at first. When the Temple exploded..." She trailed off, looking away. "I was furious, and needed someone to blame. You were our only suspect." Brill nudged Cassandra's hand with a cup of wine, and Cassandra took it with surprise. "Thank you," she said, taking a small sip. 

Brill smiled at Cassandra. "I would have done the same, were our roles reversed," she assured her, taking a sip from her own cup. "I hold no ill will toward you." 

Cassandra rolled her eyes, then barked a laugh. "You truly don't, do you? It is a thing I respect about you. Pragmatism is a rare thing." She chuckled softly to herself, then abruptly groaned and put her head in her hands, elbows on the table. 

Brill set down her cup, concerned. "Cassandra, are you alright?" 

Head still buried in her hands, she made a sound of disgust. "Ugh. I am always this way. Too brash. I do not think before I act." She looked up, pounding a fist on the table. "I declared the Inquisition of old, against the wishes of the remainder of the Chantry. History will look back on me as a mad-woman. I fear they may be right." Groaning, she placed her head in her hands once more. 

Brill was at a loss for words. This powerhouse of a woman was doubting herself? Cassandra always seemed so sure and decisive. Seeing her like this forced Brill to realize that Cassandra was real, despite her stony exterior, and similar to herself in many ways. 

"Cassandra," she said gently, "I won't pretend to understand the politics involved, but it stands to reason that, had you not chosen to act, Haven would be in ruins. The Breach may have spread beyond our ability to close it." Cassandra did not respond. Brill took a breath and continued, "I believe that we will be successful. We cannot entertain an alternative." 

Cassandra looked up at her then, and smiled. "Thank you. Should we finish the wine, then?"

Brill laughed, and held her cup up in a toast. "I think we must." 

* * *

Brill had been avoiding Solas since she’d humiliated herself in front of him. Avoiding him was not difficult, as he seemed to be doing the same. The few times that they _had_ crossed paths, he was as quick to find somewhere else to be as she. Brill convinced herself that she was fine with this. He expected her to tread lightly whenever they interacted, as if it were offensive to him that she would deign to speak with him. That, she could do without. 

The more she thought about it, the stronger her indignation grew. _He_ was the bare-faced elf. A mage without a Circle, an elf with no clan, no family. He had not even an alienage to claim as home. Solas was alone, and she could only assume he had chosen to be so, driving off anyone who might have shown him care. The man spoke more highly of spirits than people. He claimed to know more about elven history than the Dalish, the people who had spent centuries keeping their stories alive and unforgotten. His arrogance had no foundation. It was no wonder that the Dalish had shunned him. 

Regardless, Brill resolved to find Solas in the evening to discuss their upcoming trip to Val Royeaux. As much as she disliked his attitude, she felt the need to patch things up between them before spending two weeks on the road with him. People tended to be irritable while traveling, and pre-existing tensions often erupted into full blown arguments under stress. 

Steeling her nerves, she went looking for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 5 will be posted next Saturday.  
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Translations:
> 
> _Ir abelas, ma falon. Ma ane souven._ \- I am sorry, my friend. You are tired.


	5. Cognoscente

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan and company embark for Val Royeaux. Varric has some mysteries to solve.
> 
> * * *
> 
> _Varric hadn't really thought much of the event afterward, chalking it up to weird hobo apostate shit. But now, watching Frosty dart glances at him while Chuckles pointedly ignored her, he wondered._

She found Solas near the apothecary's hut. He was sitting cross-legged in the grass reading a book. He looked up at her as she approached.

"Herald. Have you been well?"

Brill’s eyebrows shot up. "I have, thank you. I was hoping to,” she paused, “make sure we are ready for our trip to Val Royeaux," she shifted her weight. "We leave in two days."

He closed his book and scooted over, patting the ground next to him in invitation for her to sit. Brill hesitated for a moment before she sat down, their shoulders narrowly brushing past each other. Solas pulled away from her, adjusting his position to put a sizable gap between them. 

"I have been worried about you since the other night," he said quietly, not meeting her eyes. "You were quite distraught. I wanted to check on you, but you did not seem amenable to my presence." He sighed and looked at her with a wistful expression on his face. 

Brill had no idea what to say to him. 

Getting no response, Solas tried again. "I hope I am not making you uncomfortable. I do not wish to reopen old wounds, if they are indeed old." 

"I am dealing with it," she said, not entirely certain which of them she was trying to convince. "It was a moment of weakness, nothing more." 

Solas watched her, saying nothing. Brill's heart jumped a little as his gaze slowly traveled over her face, stopping on her mouth for just a moment too long. He blinked and looked away. They sat in silence for a few minutes, neither sure how to proceed. Finally, he spoke again. 

"Tell me of your clan." 

Brill, happy for the distraction, began to relax as she told him of Clan Lavellan. She told Solas about the time when her magic had appeared. She had been terrified. The clan already had two mages, Keeper Deshanna and his First, Mahannon. Other clans were not so lucky. The decennial meeting of the Dalish clans, the _Arlathvhen_ , was scheduled for the fall of that year. Brill was terrified that she would be transferred to a clan lacking mages. 

Solas scowled. "Ah yes, yet another proud Dalish tradition, trading children as if they are livestock." 

Brill glanced at him flatly in silent chastisement, and continued. 

"I was only eight, so I had never attended the _Arlathvhen_ , but I knew the stories. I pestered the Keeper for months before we went, and all he would ever tell me was that he would do whatever was best for the clan." She paused, clearing her throat. "I never felt such dread and apprehension since, before I woke up in Haven's prison with foul magic bleeding from my hand." 

Solas had leaned closer while she talked. He tilted his head to the side, "But you are of Clan Lavellan. You stayed. What happened?"

Brill smiled brightly at the memory, and she heard him take in a quick breath. "The Keeper arranged to send me with Clan Tillahnnen, since their Keeper did not have a First. His plans changed when Mahannon fell in love with a Tillahnnen girl at the _Arlathvhen_ ." She laughed, "The Keeper wasn't happy to trade his First for a literal _da'len_ , but Mahannon didn't give him much choice." 

Brill was eager to share more of her stories. She was pleased to note that Solas was an attentive listener, mirroring her as she talked. When she smiled, he returned it. When she laughed, he did, too. The gap that he had created between them grew gradually smaller as they warmed up to each other. He asked her questions about her clan's traditions, wondered about the origins of the stories they told, analyzed the encounters that they had had with _shemlen_ in their travels. He seemed fascinated with her clan. When she ran out of stories to tell, he told some of his own. 

"I have watched the _Elvhen_ in the Fade. Memories of them, I mean." He leaned towards her as he spoke and reached out to pluck a stray blade of grass from her lap. His fingers glanced off of her own as he did so. The inadvertent touch sent a warm charge through her, and her stomach did a tiny somersault. Brill suddenly found it difficult to get enough air into her lungs. 

"I would love to hear some of these memories," she breathed. His eyes flicked up sharply, his pupils dilating when they met hers. The intensity of his gaze only worsened her discomfort. She glanced away. 

"Present culture shares few things in common with ancient _Arlathan_ ," Solas said. "Are there any Somniari among the Dalish?" he asked Brill. One of his fingers absentmindedly stroked her pinky as he awaited her answer. Brill just stared at their hands, trying to regulate her breathing. He cleared his throat and she shook her head a little as she realized he had asked her a question. 

"I've never met one. We have stories of dreamers, but they have always seemed mythical to me. Much about the ancient elves does." Brill returned Solas's gentle touch. "I often wonder what things were really like before the fall of _Arlathan_."

Solas leaned in close like he was about to divulge a secret, "I am a Somniari. I am able to manipulate the Fade while I sleep. I have studied ancient ruins and witnessed events which have been forgotten by all who live today." 

Brill frowned, a forgotten dream hazily drifting to the forefront of her thoughts. "When I was unconscious, after I was smited by that templar, I dreamed of you," she said.

He smiled, but it faltered. "I sought you out in the Fade. You had to wake up so that I could heal you," he swallowed, but his eyes remained on hers. When he continued, his voice wavered ever so slightly, "I feared you would not wake, ever. I had to find you to be certain that you did." 

They both gave up on conversation; instead, they each sat exploring the other’s face. Solas's soft hazel gaze wandered freely with a slight smile, and Brill followed suit. She felt lightheaded when she noticed his shallow breaths echoing hers. She brought her eyes up to a small scar, not quite centered between his brows. She wondered absently how he'd gotten it. Brill's heart beat faster as her eyes traveled slowly down the sharp bridge of his nose, stopping when they reached his mouth. Their fingers were intertwined between them, thumbs gently stroking out a languorous rhythm. Without thinking, she wet her lips and leaned in to kiss him. 

Her movement snapped Solas out of the moment and he looked away, dropping her hand. "I have enjoyed our conversation. It is late, but I look forward to discussing more of the Dalish and ancient history in the future." He stood, angling his body away from her, and offered a hand to help her up. She took it. 

" _On nydha_ , Herald", Solas spoke quietly, not quite meeting her eyes. 

Brill stood and turned toward her cabin, confusion buzzing in her head, "Good night, Solas." 

* * *

After a final goodbye to Josephine and Leliana that morning, Brill, Varric, Cassandra, Cullen, and Solas set off to the north, headed for the Imperial Highway. 

Varric made several ineffective attempts to start up a conversation with the group as they traveled. Chuckles was brooding and sullen, responding only to direct questions with clipped answers. Curly repeatedly and unsuccessfully tried to catch Brill's eye, ostensibly to pull her away from the others so that they could talk. Frosty alternated between sneaking glances at the apostate and staring off into the distance, forcing Varric to repeat himself if he wanted a response from her. The Seeker did nothing but scoff and roll her eyes every time she heard Varric's voice. 

He finally gave up on conversation, wondering whether it was too late to turn back. Under no circumstances could he put up with this kind of vibe for a week straight. He was bored already, and they had only been on the road for an hour. He decided to do something about it. Before he could act, he would have to work out what was going on. He slowed his horse, positioning himself behind the group to give himself a better view of the situation. 

The Seeker was easy. She hated Varric, and he didn't figure there was much he could do about that, other than tell her where Hawke was. Definitely no. 

Varric turned his attention to Curly. The templar looked... pathetic, honestly. Every so often, he would surreptitiously bring his horse up alongside Frosty's. The first few times he did this, he cleared his throat awkwardly as if he were going to say something. He followed that up with a glance at the Herald, noting dejectedly that she was oblivious to him, eventually moving away.

Varric was puzzled. He'd known Curly for years, and had never seen the man so much as look at a woman with anything more than mild interest. Today, he was all but throwing himself at one, and a mage, no less. 

Frosty, on the other hand, was doing her best to present an air of indifference toward the troubled templar. Varric noticed, though, that each time he got close, she stiffened ever so slightly, sitting up a little straighter in the saddle. At times, she went so far as to angle her horse away from him, and she never made eye contact. 

_Hmm_. Varric shuffled the possibilities around in his mind. Curly was into her and Frosty was actively avoiding him. She was not indifferent, no matter how hard she tried to play it that way. No, she was upset with him. He wondered what the commander had done. Varric made a mental note to try and get him to talk once they set up camp for the night. 

That settled, he turned to the other weird dynamic in the group. Chuckles was riding regally atop his horse, a slight frown flitting intermittently across his face. Varric thought of him as Chuckles for a reason, but he wasn't usually _this_ surly. This one would be harder to crack. Varric didn't know the apostate very well, despite their weeks together in the Hinterlands. All he really knew about him was that he liked to talk about The Fade, and possibly had some demon friends. Varric concentrated, trying to think of anything else he knew of the apostate that would explain his current mood. 

He thought back to their first day in the Hinterlands. They had just left the scouting camp and jumped into the riot at the Crossroads. Varric had been keeping to high ground, sinking shot after shot into his targets. He'd lost sight of the Seeker and Frosty, and was providing support for Chuckles. He was watching the elf finish off one of the apostates when he heard a bloodcurdling scream, followed by Cassandra shouting from a distance that Frosty needed help. Chuckles had taken off toward the screaming like a mabari after an Orlesian chevalier. Varric had followed, struggling to keep up. 

Solas struck down obstacles with ease on his way to the Herald. Varric had never before seen a mage send an entire squad of templars flying through the air with a flick of the wrist. He saw it twice that day. When they arrived on scene, Cassandra was backed up in front of a boulder, shielding the now unconscious Herald from a group of templars, one dead in the dirt at her feet. Chuckles snapped his fingers, summoning a tiny rift behind the templars which pulled them up and tangled them together, their limbs bending in all the wrong places. He'd then punched down with his staff, bidding a giant stone fist to apparate above the mass of templars, crushing them into the ground. 

Without giving the carnage a second look, Chuckles rushed over to Cassandra, who was just about to pour a healing potion into the Herald's open mouth. He slapped the bottle out of her hand. 

"Don't! What happened?" The elf's voice was high and frantic. That was the moment when Varric recognized, through the fog of his astonishment, that the apostate was in a panic.

Cassandra was indignant at the wasted potion. "She was hit with a Holy Smite. She will come around. What is your meaning, withholding a healing potion?" Cassandra pulled another bottle from her belt. 

"We don't know how the herbs will interact with her mark!" He shouted, too loud, bending down to pick up Frosty. "We must get her somewhere safe, and quickly!" 

Cassandra, knowing that an argument would be a waste of time, led the way to Mother Giselle's outpost at The Crossroads. 

There, things had gotten even weirder. Chuckles refused to let any healers near the Herald. Varric was pretty sure he’d heard the elf literally snarl when one got too close. Once everyone stopped trying to help, he placed his hands over her head, her chest, her stomach, each time shaking his head and cursing in elvish. He gave that up, then started pacing back and forth next to the cot for a few moments. He turned to Cassandra and growled, "Do _not_ let anyone touch her," and stalked off. Varric watched, incredulous, as Solas found another cot, downed a potion, and promptly fell asleep. He remained there until Cassandra shouted for him when Frosty woke. 

Varric hadn't really thought much of the event afterward, chalking it up to weird hobo apostate shit. But now, watching Frosty dart glances at him while Chuckles pointedly ignored her, he wondered.

Looking over at Curly, who had finally settled for gazing wistfully at Frosty from a distance, he wondered some more. How did the templar fit into all of this? 

Varric decided that the trip might not be so boring, after all. 

* * *

They stopped to set up camp within a small wood, hardly larger than a stand of trees, just before dusk. Brill thought they should have stopped sooner, to be sure they had enough daylight to set up equipment and get a fire going, but Cassandra had balked at each potential site Brill suggested. Cassandra didn't like this location either, but Brill put her foot down. 

"We will be vulnerable here! The trees do not provide enough cover. Our fire will be visible for miles around," Cassandra argued vehemently. "We should keep going."

Brill jumped down from her horse. "Well, Cassandra," she replied, spinning in a circle with her arms out, gesturing to the relatively flat and definitely empty landscape surrounding them, "unless you know of an invisible forest or cave nearby, I'm not seeing other options," 

Cassandra opened her mouth, clearly not ready to give up the argument, but Brill cut her off. 

"Furthermore, the sun is low. It will be dusk within the hour. If we continue, we'll be sleeping in the open with no fire." She opened her saddlebags and started unpacking her gear. "I am stopping here. You can stop with me, or go on ahead. It makes little difference to me." 

Cassandra huffed and slid down from her horse. "As you wish, Herald. I will walk the perimeter of the area to be sure we are safe." She stomped off into the trees. 

Varric approached Brill, "Curly and I are going to go set up the tents. That work for you?" 

Brill nodded and finished tethering the horses near a small pond just inside the wood. When she was done, she glanced up to see Solas staring at her from his position on the other side of the pond. He looked away when he realized she was watching him, and returned to his task of gathering wood for their fire. Tired of his games, she checked to make sure that they were alone, then marched over to him. They were going to talk about whatever it was between them, whether he wanted to or not. 

He refused to acknowledge her when she stomped up behind him, so she reached out and grabbed his shoulder. Breaking her grasp, Solas spun around and took a sudden, involuntary step towards her. His eyes were wild, the tendons in his neck taut. Brill took another small step towards him, daring him to close the gap between them. His fingers twitched in her direction, then froze. They stood there, both barely breathing, both afraid to move. Solas swallowed hard, cheeks flushed, tips of his ears pink. Brill felt a sharp pang of excitement and leaned closer, willing him to touch her. 

"Frosty! You need to come pick a spot for your tent!" Varric shouted from close by. 

Brill and Solas jumped apart, tension broken. She glanced in Varric's direction, peering through the trees to locate him. When she turned back to Solas, she found herself alone with an abandoned wood pile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year's Eve! Chapter 5 released early for the holidays.
> 
> Regularly scheduled posting will occur on Saturday.
> 
> Thank you for reading, and may you all ring in the New Year at peace.
> 
> Translations:
> 
> _On nydha_ \- Good night.


	6. Equestrian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The awkward trip to Val Royeaux continues.
> 
> * * *
> 
> _She let out a sigh and flopped over in her bed, frustrated._
> 
> _"He will be back," Cassandra whispered in the dark. "Stop fidgeting and go to sleep. You are keeping me awake."_
> 
> _Brill cringed, embarrassed. "I am sorry, Cassandra."_

Solas did not appear for the rest of the evening. Cassandra had checked the horses and reported that Solas's horse was still there, indicating that he couldn't have gone far. She got up from her seat at the fire every so often to check the area. 

"Quit worrying, Seeker," Varric said when she stood for the fourth time. "He's probably curled up under a bush taking a field trip in the Fade. He'll come back once he's done." Varric could see that Frosty was on edge, and Cassandra's anxiety was not helping. He watched her across the fire as she stared into it blankly, acknowledging no one. Yeah, something had definitely happened between her and Chuckles. 

* * *

Brill lay in the tent she shared with Cassandra, unable to sleep. Rapid fire thoughts buzzed through her mind, disjointed and scattered, as she thought about her recent encounters with Solas. Prior to this week, she thought Solas was merely interested in the mark on her hand. Presently, it was obvious that he was interested in more than the mark, and he didn’t seem happy about it. She herself was reeling from the shock of discovering that she was interested in him, too. 

She usually went for kind, sweet men, the type to whisper sweet words and recite poetry. Brill’s first love, Dalinev, had showered her with these things. He was quiet and shy, a boy she had known since her first memories formed. One evening, after a raucous meal in celebration of some forgotten achievement, he had walked up next to her and slipped a note into her hand, then dashed away. The note read, simply: 

_Ar lath ma_

They were twelve years old, and it was the most romantic thing she had ever seen. She’d scoured the camp, finally finding him hiding under an _aravel_ , and kissed him right on the lips. They spent the rest of the night talking about random things, holding hands and kissing whenever one of them worked up enough nerve. The next few weeks were the most charming weeks of her young life. They snuck away whenever they could, and he invariably had a gift for her. Always simple gifts, such as a pretty flower he'd come across, or a rabbit's foot he'd stolen from his father's most recent kill. 

Dalinev was promised to another clan in a marriage contract, leaving to integrate within his new clan at the age of thirteen. On the eve of his departure, he'd recited a mourning song, altered just for her: 

>   
>  _Ara lath el melana sahlin_
> 
> _emma ir abelas_
> 
> _ebalal dirthal dar'eth_
> 
> _banal'halam_
> 
> _el da'esalath_
> 
> _vir sulahn'nehn_
> 
> _vir dirthera_
> 
> _vir samahl la numin_
> 
> _vir lath sa'vunin_

Brill held his song, and his performance of it, close to her heart. She knew it was young love, not meant to last, but Dalinev's method of love had forever informed her expectations of men. 

She enjoyed being courted and given gifts. 

Solas, as far as she could tell, was not a man who courted. He was intense, yes. He was passionate in his beliefs. He was arrogant and sometimes outright rude. He was the antithesis of what she imagined for herself as a fitting romantic partner.

And yes, Brill had certainly had her share of steamy flings based purely on sex, the most passionate among them a wandering elven mage named Innan. Her relationship with Innan had been intense and, for lack of a better word, insane. She would likely still be wrapped up in his tumultuous life, had it not been for the intervention of Keeper Deshanna, who was disgusted with them both by the end. Aside from Innan, all of her romantic trysts had fizzled out quickly once their desire had been sated. 

None of them, however, had felt like... this. Whatever this was. 

She let out a sigh and flopped over in her bed, frustrated. 

"He will be back," Cassandra whispered in the dark. "Stop fidgeting and go to sleep. You are keeping me awake." 

Brill cringed, embarrassed. "I am sorry, Cassandra." 

It was a long night.

* * *

"WOOOOOOO!"

The camp woke to the sound of frantic splashing and shrieking. Varric stumbled out of his tent, hair loose, wearing a shirt that hung to his knees. Cullen was right behind him, in a similar state of undress, his hair sticking out wildly in all directions. Their eyes darted around the camp, trying to locate the source of the troubling sounds. Solas casually joined them, taking a sip of tea and grimacing as he watched the two men panic. 

"Cassandra and the Herald are having a swim," he informed them, sitting next to the freshly stoked fire.

Varric and Cullen relaxed simultaneously, bringing a small smile of mirth to Solas's lips. They sat down with him and each dipped themselves a cup of tea from the pot Solas had prepared. Once they were relaxed and properly caffeinated, Varric spoke. 

"Where did you run off to, Chuckles? Frosty and the Seeker were on edge all night, worrying about you." He raised an eyebrow at the elf. Cullen said nothing, sipping his tea and staring off in the direction of the pond. 

Solas shrugged and said, "I went for a walk." 

Varric stared at him, but Solas didn't look up or offer any further information. "Fine. Don't tell me. But next time? Leave a note." He put his cup down and returned to the tent. The sounds of splashing and laughter still carried through the trees. 

"You will hurt her." 

Solas looked up at Cullen, surprised. "I beg your pardon?" 

Cullen stood, tossing his cup into a small wash pot. "You will hurt her. And when you do, I will make certain that your pain doubles her own." Cullen turned towards the tent, then stopped and looked back at Solas. "She is frightened of me, now. I know that was your doing, and I am doubtful that it can be undone. But you can walk away before you damage her further. You should walk away." Cullen shook his head, "It would be kinder in the long run." 

Cullen entered his tent, leaving Solas to his thoughts. 

* * *

Invigorated by her swim with Cassandra, Brill was ready to get back on the road. She was uncharacteristically chatty, trading jokes with Varric and sharing stories of her travels with her clan. 

"Varric?" she said, after a particularly long period of silence. 

"Yeah, Frosty?" 

"What do you call a Fereldan _shemlen_ who is always sniffing up Orlesian skirts?" 

"I don't know. What?"

"A mabari." 

A collective groan went up, and Cassandra made a sound of disgust. 

"Frosty, how about we leave the comedy to the professionals?" Varric said, chuckling. 

The rest of the day's journey was uneventful but pleasant. Varric told himself it was a job well done. He'd spoken with Curly the day before as they set up camp, confirming his theory that the templar was enamored with their Herald. He'd told Curly about his suspicions that Frosty was distracted by Chuckles, and the templar had not taken it well at all. 

"The Herald and I had a," he hesitated, "moment, the other night. The apostate interrupted," Curly was irate, "and I should not have left. I know I should have stayed, but she dismissed me." 

"Well shit, Curly, what else could you do? A lady asks you to leave, you leave." 

Cullen scoffed. "Yes, I did the honorable thing. That does not mean I did the right thing." 

Varric mulled that one over, finally saying, "At the end of the day, you have to be able to live with yourself." He finished tying off a ballast and stood. "Even if the outcome wasn't what you wanted, you listened to your gut, and that's what counts." 

Curly had said nothing for several minutes while they finished up the third tent. When they were done, he rolled his neck, working out the kinks, and said, "Thank you, Varric."

Yep. Varric had fixed the problem. No more lovesick templar, no more uneasy Herald. The Seeker must have used a similar ploy with Frosty; he hadn't seen her glance at Chuckles once all day. 

_Job well done,_ Varric thought to himself. 

* * *

Brill was angry. Over the past week of traveling, she had not spoken to Solas privately, not once. Someone was always around. Cassandra, wanting to talk about their upcoming appeal to the Chantry. Varric, constantly asking her to swap stories, as if his own were not monumentally more interesting than hers. Even Cullen had found ways to be omnipresent in Solas's life, asking questions about the Fade, which Solas could not resist answering, or goading the apostate into arguments regarding the efficacy of the Chantry Circles. 

It was frustrating, to say the least. 

The closer they got to Val Royeaux, however, the more Brill began to worry more about their reception, and less about her personal turmoil. Cassandra worried along with her, but their conversations were often cyclical and unproductive. One moment, Cassandra would be certain that the Chantry would see reason. Within minutes, she convinced herself that the trip was a waste of time. Cullen occasionally joined in with reassurances that having an ex-templar of high standing would be favorable to their cause. 

Solas did not seem to be concerned with the outcome of their venture. When pressed, he was adamant that whatever happened would be irrelevant, as they should really be focusing on finding enough collective power to close the Breach and be done with it. Cassandra would not accept this, as the closing of the Breach would do nothing to heal the political chaos that Divine Justinia's death at the Temple had thrust upon the continent. 

Varric, always the mediator, found a silver lining for any possibility. 

"If the Chantry won't support the Inquisition, we'll build goodwill with the people of Thedas." 

"You've seen public opinion of the templars in the Hinterlands. They would gladly close the Breach in exchange for the salvation of their reputation." 

"I knew some of the mages at the helm of the rebellion. They didn't want... this. They'll help if we give them sanctuary." 

Varric had reassurances for any scenario, which Brill found both comforting and annoying. It was comforting to know that one door closing wouldn't end their campaign. It was annoying that Varric refused to talk strategy simply because failure wasn't absolute. 

Brill was also loath to admit that she was completely beyond her skill set. She was Dalish. She did not concern herself with _shemlen_ politics, and all of these "what-ifs" absolutely revolved around _shemlen_ politics. None of her companions seemed to realize how confused she was, and she feared that enlightening them would only decrease their faith in her, regardless of whether she was worthy of said faith to begin with. 

The truth was, Brill was starting to enjoy being a part of the Inquisition. There was some thrill in strategizing, making decisions that might well affect all of Thedas. She felt... powerful. As her clan's First, her most important duty was learning from her Keeper. She had to be able to recall stories, to tell them with reverence and accuracy. The people of her clan must be able to confide in her, trust her enough to seek her out for advice. Keeper Deshanna had reminded her of this expectation every time he’d had to pull her out of the fire. 

But a Keeper is not a dictator, nor even a ruler. He exists to impart wisdom, not give orders. A good Keeper will often withhold his opinion in matters related to the clan, providing only relevant information or history to help the group reach decisions. 

Within the Inquisition, she made decisions, sometimes unilaterally, as she had when deciding how they would venture to Val Royeaux. Once that decision was made, she’d thought little of it, but now that they were less than a day's travel from arriving... 

She was worried. Worried that, if things turned sour, heads would roll. Or head. Her head. 

A prickle ran up her spine, branching out along her periphery, and she physically shuddered. Feeling antsy and nervous, she clicked her tongue, urging her horse into a trot. 

"Hey, what's the hurry?" Varric called out after her. 

"I'm bored! Let's race!" 

Cassandra rolled her eyes. 

* * *

"Idiot."

Brill looked up sheepishly at Cassandra as Solas wrapped her swollen ankle. "I-"

Cassandra turned to Varric. "Imbecile."

Varric made a rude gesture with his uninjured hand as Cullen tied two of his fingers together in a rudimentary splint. 

"Of all the-"

"Cassandra, we're sorry," Brill pleaded with her, "It's nothing serious, we're fine." 

Cassandra crossed her arms and leaned back, brows furrowed in disapproval as she glared at Brill down the bridge of her nose. "This time." She threw her hands in the air. "Herald, if you had broken your neck, where would that leave us? The Inquisition?" She was pacing back and forth now, not looking at either of them. 

"I wasn't-"

Cassandra whirled around to face her, eyes wide with incredulity. "What kind of utter half-wit tries to jump their pack horse over a fence that high? We are lucky the horse has more sense than you!" She turned back to Varric. "And you! What possessed you to watch the Herald be thrown and then attempt the same jump?" She glowered at him and shook her head. "Though I must admit I am less surprised at _your_ stupidity."

"At least my horse made the jump," he grumbled in response. 

"It is less impressive if you don't make the jump along with the horse," Solas said mildly. He ignored the rude gesture when it was aimed at him. 

Brill sighed. "Cassandra, we are sorry. It will not happen again." 

"It certainly will not happen again today. You and Varric will be walking until the horses have calmed down." She spun on her heel and stomped over to the horses. 

"She's right, you know," Cullen commented quietly. "It was a foolish thing to do, not to mention what Dennet will have to say about it when we return to Haven." 

Brill groaned, not at all relishing the idea of walking several miles on a sprained ankle. 

* * *

Brill and Varric were in foul moods when they finally stopped to set up camp. Solas and Cullen had spent the afternoon jovially discussing the merits of various Thedosian horses. They were particularly knowledgeable on the subject of each breed's willingness to jump obstacles. Brill had limped along behind them, occasionally muttering unkind comments about them both, which the men found very funny, for some reason. She briefly considered knocking them off and stealing one of their horses, but figured her odds of success were low given her injured ankle. 

Thus, when they had gotten the tents set up and the fire built, Brill ate her portion of dinner in stony silence and then limped off to her tent for the night. She knew she wasn't being a good sport, but she was embarrassed and had never enjoyed being the butt of a joke. After peeling off her dust-covered clothing, she climbed into her sleeping bag wearing only her smalls, too tired and sore to bother with her dressing gown. Exhaustion overtook her, and she was asleep before it even occurred to her to worry about their anticipated arrival in Val Royeaux the following day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We made it to 2021! Happy New Year bonus post!  
> Chapter 7 will be posted on Saturday, as scheduled.  
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Translations:
> 
> _Ar lath ma_ \- I love you  
>  _Ara lath el melana sahlin_ \- My love our time has come  
>  _emma ir abalas_ \- now I am filled with sorrow  
>  _ebalal dirthal da'reth_ \- grieving, we speak goodbye  
>  _banal'halam_ \- but nothing truly ends  
>  _el da'esalath_ \- our young courtship  
>  _vir sulahn'nehn_ \- we sing, rejoice  
>  _vir dirthera_ \- we tell the tale  
>  _vir samahl la numin_ \- we laugh and cry  
>  _vir lath sa'vunin_ \- we love one more day


	7. Heresiarch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan addresses the Chantry in Val Royeaux.
> 
> * * *
> 
> _Threat neutralized, she realized that the patio was quiet; there were no sounds of fighting to be heard. The throbbing pain in her arm reminded her of the dagger, and she gasped as Cullen gingerly adjusted his position, nudging it in the process. Her sudden intake of breath caused Cullen to jerk his eyes to her, then assess her for damage. His eyes widened slightly when he saw the dagger in her arm._

An Inquisition scout met the group when they approached the gates to Val Royeaux. 

"My Lady Herald, greetings."

Brill gave him a nod, and he continued. 

"The templars are here, and rumor has it that they are to protect the Chantry from the Inquisition. From you." 

Brill shook her head, eyebrows raised. "From me? What do they think I'm here to do?" She could already feel the cold apprehension creeping through her veins. The templars are here. 

"I can't say I know," the scout replied, "but I would advise you to stay on your guard." 

Brill thanked him and turned to her companions. "What should we do? I do not want to risk a fight with a group of templars." Her voice shook a bit when she spoke. 

"Maybe they've returned to the Chantry. In solidarity against the Inquisition." Varric postulated. 

"No," Cullen and Cassandra spoke at the same time, and Cassandra nodded at Cullen for him to continue. 

"With all that's happened, I don't think the templars would come back so easily, or for that reason. The Inquisition is nothing, currently. The Herald is the threat." He looked at Brill apologetically, and she looked away. He sighed, and went on, "The templars have done some... questionable things, but they would not attack the Herald unprovoked. If anything, this is a show of force, much like what Leliana wanted for us. They wish to intimidate."

Brill hummed a low sound of disapproval. "None of these _shemlen_ care about the real threat. They're too preoccupied with their status to realize that they'll have no status if the world ends!" She looked around for something to punch. Or somewhere to hide. She wasn’t sure which would make her feel better. 

Cassandra tutted at her, then waited for Brill to sort herself out. 

"Regardless, they know we are here. We will need to address them. Let us proceed. We can work out what to do next after we have more information."

They walked into the market square, and Brill was momentarily distracted by the opulence of the place. The people were dressed like masked peacocks, and the first time one of them shied away from her in fear, she found it amusing. The second time, she was vaguely annoyed. When it happened a third time, she turned toward the woman, preparing to bare her teeth and growl. 

"That is a decidedly terrible idea," Solas admonished, grabbing her elbow and pulling her towards him. 

She extricated herself from his grip, embarrassed. He was right. She centered herself, then held her head high as they approached the crowd gathered on the far side of the market. 

* * *

The crowd gathered around the stage was hysterical; the Chantry mother stoking their ire as she stood upon it preaching doom upon all the world. The people made way as Brill strode up with her entourage, gasping and pointing and whispering as they gawked at the spectacle that was her marked hand. As the group made their way to the front, the Chantry mother noticed the disturbance in the crowd. 

"Ah, the false prophet, the murderess of our beloved Divine. She claims the title of 'Herald of Andraste'. As if the Maker's Bride would send a savage elf in our time of need."

The crowd shouted in agreement, jostling and jeering at Brill and her companions. Cullen and Cassandra flanked the group, pushing back against those who got too close. Brill looked around as the crowd quieted, realizing that they expected her to respond. 

Taking a deep breath, she shouted, "I am not your enemy. The only enemy we have is the Breach in the sky. Let us stop this nonsense! We must unite to end the real threat!" 

The Chantry mother smirked at Brill, eliciting another round of jeers and insults from the crowd. 

"Cease your lies. The templars have returned to the Chantry, for they know that justice must be exacted in the name of the Divine!" A raucous cheer went up as the Chantry mother gestured to a large group of templars approaching the stage. Brill felt the frisson of horror in the pit of her stomach grow, and she fought desperately to maintain control. She looked around to find an exit, reminding herself that she could move, she could run, she could escape if need be. 

"Lord Seeker Lucius is with them," Cassandra commented quietly in Brill’s ear, "he will pacify the crowd."

A templar climbed the stage ahead of the Lord Seeker and punched the Chantry mother in the mouth. She fell to the ground in a heap of limbs, and the crowd gasped, shocked into silence. 

Brill was incensed, her anxiety giving way to anger. "What is the meaning of this display? The world already believes you to be brutes. You come all this way to just to prove them right?" She spat on the ground in a show of disrespect. 

"Our purpose is no concern of yours, knife-ear," the Lord Seeker growled, and Brill felt Solas go rigid behind her. "This Chantry mother is of no consequence, much like your 'Inquisition'." He strode off of the stage, leaving the crowd a mass of confusion and panic. 

Cullen pushed past the crowd and jumped onto the stage, bellowing over the pandemonium. "Templars! This is not why we joined the Order! There is a place for you within the Inquisition. Abandon this pointless crusade and make your way to Haven. We can close the Breach with your help!" 

Several of the templars stopped to listen as Cullen spoke. The Lord Seeker commanded, "Do not listen to this fallen templar, he who abandoned us when he was most needed. He has betrayed the Order. Val Royeaux is unworthy of our protection. We march!" And with that, the templars left the square, quick as they came. 

* * *

"The Lord Seeker has gone mad. There is no other explanation." Cassandra was steaming after the events in the square. Once the crowd began to dissipate, Brill and the others found a secluded al fresco cafe near the docks of Val Royeaux. The air reeked of rotted fish, and the breeze was non-existent, but the place was empty and they needed someplace private to discuss their next move. The group sat around a wobbly table on uncomfortable stools, taking turns lamenting how badly things had gone. 

"What I don't understand is why the templars are still following him," Cullen was fidgeting with his glove, which had gone crooked. "They must feel that they have no other choice, that the Chantry no longer considers them a part of the church." 

"I would not be so quick to make assumptions, Commander," Solas began haughtily, "the templars have been lost for some time now. Too many did not bother to attend the conclave, Lord Seeker Lucius among them." He looked from Cullen to Cassandra as he continued, "It is they who abandoned the Chantry, and they did so long before the Breach appeared."

Varric, who had been uncharacteristically quiet since the spectacle in the square, sighed. "I can't believe they punched the Chantry mother. Who does that?" He shook his head. "All I know is we need to get out of Val Royeaux. The people in that crowd were scared, and you are the bogeyman, Frosty." 

Brill looked up from the dingy tablecloth she had been folding and refolding in her hands. She had nothing to add to this conversation. How could she formulate a solid plan when she was lacking the nuance that the people surrounding her had? She was a Dalish mage, not an apostate like Solas. Cassandra and Cullen had decades of experience with mage/templar relations that she could only begin to grasp an understanding of. And Varric had been there at the start of the whole mess, right in the center of it. 

"Well," she started hesitantly, "I think-"

A flat-ear in a purple hood appeared in the overgrown archway of the patio they sat in. 

"Message for you, Herald," she said, reaching into a satchel. Brill dodged as she saw the glint of a blade hurtling towards her chest. She toppled off of her stool, the dagger embedded in her upper arm. The patio exploded into activity. Cassandra and Cullen jumped from their stools, blades drawn, while Solas cast a barrier and Varric loaded his crossbow. An arrow impaled itself into the leg of the stool next to Brill’s head and she jerked away, inadvertently twisting the dagger deeper into her arm. She groaned in agony and looked around for somewhere to hide, her vision darkening at the corners of her eyes. She felt dizzy and weak as she tried to crawl under a nearby table. Then someone was on top of her, covering her body with theirs, pressing her down into the stone patio floor. Forgetting the pain in lieu of this new threat, she fought against her attacker, scratching until he trapped her wrists in his vice-like grip, biting at exposed flesh, finally landing a knee in his groin. 

"Maker's _balls_ , Herald," Cullen wheezed in her ear, "hold still!"

Threat neutralized, she realized that the patio was quiet; there were no sounds of fighting to be heard. The throbbing pain in her arm reminded her of the dagger, and she gasped as Cullen gingerly adjusted his position, nudging it in the process. Her sudden intake of breath caused Cullen to jerk his eyes to her, then assess her for damage. His eyes widened slightly when he saw the dagger in her arm. 

"You're injured. I will take you to the Chantry for medical attention." He pushed himself off of her and helped Brill to her feet. "Can you walk?" 

Brill, clammy and cold, nodded her head and nearly fell on her face. She reached out and grabbed his forearm to steady herself, and her knees buckled beneath her. She heard Cullen cry out to her from a great distance and her vision went dark. 

* * *

Cullen had thrown himself on top of the Herald without a thought when he saw arrows flying, shielding her with his body while Cassandra, Solas, and Varric commenced on a chase to apprehend their attackers. She had fought him like a demon, which is why he hadn't realized she was hurt, at first. She gouged one of his eyes with her thumb and scraped out a ragged chunk of skin from his collarbone before he was able to grasp her wrists in one of his hands. She'd started biting, then, and had gotten him good on the end of his chin, which was still smarting. When he reeled back from the bite, he'd given her another opening, and she kneed him directly in the balls, causing him to gasp and retch reflexively. 

He was shocked to look down and see the dagger in the Herald's arm, her flesh mangled and twisted around the hilt of the blade. Cullen knew it would need immediate attention, so he helped her to her feet and she had nearly collapsed back onto the stone beneath them. That's when he noticed it. A distressingly large pool of blood had been smeared all over the stone in their struggle. Aghast, he looked himself over to find that he was soaked in blood. He could smell it now, the metallic, coppery taste cloying in the back of his throat. Cullen looked at the Herald as he held her upright and saw that she was similarly sodden, blood leaking from her injury like the last dregs from a water skein. 

Without asking permission, Cullen scooped Brill up into his arms and ran for the Chantry, shouting for help all the way. 

* * *

Cassandra, Solas, and Varric returned to the cafe, horrified at the abandoned and gruesome scene that greeted them. As Cassandra and Varric stared in shock, Solas searched the area frantically, shouting at them to follow as he took off after a faint trail of blood. Cassandra and Varric sprinted behind him, struggling to keep up with him. 

They found Cullen outside of the Chantry doors, standing guard with his blade drawn. He was covered in half-dried blood, streaks of it on his face and neck. One of his eyes was swollen shut and he was missing a piece of flesh on the end of his chin. Relief washed over his face when he saw the trio come around the corner, and he opened his mouth to speak- 

"The Herald! Where is she?" Solas demanded, shifting his weight quickly from foot to foot, fists clenched, his breaths coming in quick and ragged. Cullen put his hands up in defense.

"She is inside with the sisters. They are working on her now. No, you can't go in-" 

Solas barged through the Chantry doors, leaving the rest of them in the street. The three of them heard female voices raised, first in warning, then in alarm as Solas let out a string of curses in elvish. 

Varric looked from Cassandra to Cullen, then sighed wearily. "We should probably go help the sisters, right?" 

* * *

Thankfully, Cassandra was able to pacify the distraught Chantry sisters before they threw everyone out, along with their patient. The sisters had already finished stitching up the Herald, and Solas calmed down immediately when he saw her sleeping peacefully in a cot, a bit blue around the lips but otherwise alive. She had lost a lot of blood, but the sisters reported that keeping her hydrated and supplied with some herbs to encourage the production of blood would do the trick. The four took turns watching over her as she slept for the next several hours, in the event that assassins would show up to complete the kill. 

When she finally woke, Brill was groggy and her head was pounding. Cassandra was there to help her sip some water and swallow a bitter concoction without choking on it. Trying to speak left Brill out of breath, so Cassandra forbade her from talking. As she lay there, her companions frequently gathered together in corners, talking quietly and glancing at her from time to time, which she found insulting. And a little worrisome. Perhaps they were deciding how to break the news that she was dying. A nervous giggle escaped her, leaving her gasping for breath again. Brill, recollecting the day's events with distaste, decided that she hated Val Royeaux and vowed to never come back. 

* * *

Rumors of the assassination attempt on the Herald's life were spread across Val Royeaux by dinner time. Orlesian nobles and peasants alike claimed to have been at the scene when the Herald was set upon and fought her attacker valiantly to the death. They were gleeful as they described how the blood poured from her while she fought, until she had none left. Still, she stood, bolstered by Andraste's love and the power of the Maker. The Herald had recited the Chant of Light as she levitated the body of her annihilated foe, parading it through the streets of Val Royeaux as a warning of what would befall those who stood against her. 

Another version claimed that the Herald had been slain and resurrected right there in the street, the mark on her hand overtaking her body as she took her vengeance with a simple nod that instantly twisted the bodies of her attackers into horrific shapes. She laughed in tandem with their agonized shrieks, bathing in their blood as it rained down on her. 

Others were less glorifying. The Herald was dead, justice for the Divine served up by the templars, or Chantry assassins, or the spirit of Andraste herself. The Herald had attacked the Chantry Mother, barely surviving her encounter with the defending templars, and was currently jailed in Val Royeaux's prison. The Herald had run from her attackers, collapsing in an alley and bleeding out alone. 

It was all horse shit, of course, but Varric took notes as each new tall tale reached his ears. It was good material for his future book, if he decided to write one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 8 will be posted next Saturday. I'm currently working on Chapter 15.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


	8. Nuisance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan discovers that assassination attempts can be rewarding. The Inquisition makes a decision for closing the Breach.
> 
> * * *
> 
> _Cassandra spoke up, "You knew the Herald was a target and did not warn us? And you dare show up here?"_
> 
> _She scoffed."Come down, muck-a-muck. I sent a note, right? Expected you to come quick." She looked at Brill. "Not our fault you won't read notes. Anyway, he's done. I want to join."_
> 
> _Cassandra scoffed, "You wish to join what, exactly?"_
> 
> _"Your group, yeah? I scratch your back, you watch the little people's." Her eyes stayed fixed on Brill. "You in?"_

By the end of Brill's second day of convalescence, she was ready to knock out a Chantry sister and sneak through a window. She was bored. She felt fine, other than the fact that walking short distances left her exhausted and wheezing. Cassandra and Varric were smothering her, constantly at her side with water, food, anecdotes, anything they could think of to keep her distracted. Whenever Solas was around, he kept his distance, opting instead to glare at her from across the room as if she had said awful things about his mother. Used to his moods, she didn't bother asking him to explain why he was angry with her. She didn't care. She wanted out of the cot. 

Cullen was avoiding her, not that Brill could blame him. She had awoken sometime during her first night in recovery and found him standing over her as she slept. What she had come to think of as the Templar Terror had sent her into a dither, heart pounding and lungs devoid of air. She screamed and attempted to scramble out of her cot. Cullen, startled, reacted by trying to hold her back, which only served to panic her further. The entire Chantry had shown up in her room to find Cullen holding her in a bear hug, arms crossed over her chest as she shrieked and tried to break his grasp. When they arrived, Cullen let her go and she'd run straight into Cassandra's arms, gasping and babbling incoherently. The Chantry sisters had murmured amongst themselves, eyeing Cullen with suspicion and distaste, assuming the worst. 

Brill was relieved to have him keep his distance, but she was feeling very guilty for shaming the man who had saved her life. 

Cassandra entered the room, interrupting her reverie. "How are you feeling, Herald?" she asked hopefully. 

"I need to get out of here, Cassandra. Immediately. I am fine. I want to return to Haven. I hate this place, I hate being confined to this room, I hate everything about Val Royeaux." Brill sat on her cot like a petulant child, embarrassed but unable to remove the whine from her voice. 

Cassandra stared at her, then rolled her eyes. "Enough with this self-pity, Herald, you will-"

Brill interrupted, annoyed. "Can you please call me Brill? Or Lavellan? I am no one's Herald. I am Brill. I hate being 'The Herald'."

Cassandra threw up her hands. "Shall I retrieve Varric, so that he can archive your list of hates? This is becoming ridiculous, Hera-" She stopped, closing her eyes in exasperation for a long moment. "This is becoming ridiculous, Lavellan. You will heal. It will take longer if you continue to exert yourself." 

Brill, feeling somewhat chastised, shrugged as if she was indifferent. "Was your visit intended only to belittle me? Or is there a point to your being here?" 

Cassandra's jaw tightened. "You have a visitor. If you insist, however, on being unpleasant, I will speak with her myself."

"I will speak with her," Brill spoke quickly, desperate for new scenery. "Who is she?" 

"An informant, of sorts. She claims to have information regarding the attack on you in the cafe." Cassandra looked skeptical. 

"What information?" Brill asked. 

"I don't know. She will only speak with 'the one who glows'." 

Brill grinned, "So when you said you would speak to her, you-"

Cassandra cut her off. "I will bring your guest." She stalked out of the room. 

* * *

The flat-ear entered the room, flanked on either side by Cassandra and Cullen. Brill avoided Cullen's eyes, focusing all of her attention on the visitor. "Hello. I am Lavellan. Welcome to my humble prison." 

She giggled, then frowned. "Why did no one mention that you’re all... elfy?" 

Brill was confused. "Elfy? You are also elfy, it would seem." 

"But you're _real_ elfy," she responded, "you’ve got the face paint and everything." She looked disappointed. "You're the Herald?" 

Brill refrained from rolling her eyes. "Some call me that, yes. I prefer Brill. Or Lavellan, if you wish. You have information on my assassins?" 

"Not your assassin, not really. But the mother pusbucket who paid to have you twigged? My friends twigged him." 

Brill squinted at her. "Twigged?"

"Yeah, you know, skagged. Murked." Seeing the puzzled expression on Brill's face, she rolled her eyes. "Offed. Put down. Made dead." 

Cassandra spoke up, "You knew the Herald was a target and did not warn us? And you dare show up here?"

She scoffed."Come down, muck-a-muck. I sent a note, right? Expected you to come quick." She looked at Brill. "Not our fault you won't read notes. Anyway, he's done. I want to join." 

Cassandra scoffed, "You wish to join what, exactly?"

"Your group, yeah? I scratch your back, you watch the little people's." Her eyes stayed fixed on Brill. "You in?"

Brill was amused. "What was your name?" 

The flat-ear flashed a brilliant smile and giggled. "Two names. Sera. That's me. Jenny. That's my group. Little people tired of the big people. You get in good before you're too big. Make sense?" 

Brill smiled at her. "It makes sense, Sera. Welcome aboard. Report to Haven, across the border in Ferelden. We will send word of your impending arrival."

Sera laughed. "Yes! Knew you'd see reason. Maybe you're not as elfy as you look!" She bounced out the door, Cullen following her warily. 

Cassandra stared after them, then turned to Brill with her arms crossed in front of her. "What? Why would you even entertain the idea of-" 

Brill, bored of Cassandra's lectures, laid down in her cot with her back turned. "I'm tired. Leave me alone. And tell Varric to stay out, too."

There was no response for several minutes. As she drifted off to sleep, she heard the sound of Cassandra leaving the room. 

* * *

Two days later, as they left Val Royeaux, Brill was uneasy. Cassandra hadn't spoken to her since the meeting with Sera. Cullen avoided her eyes and gave her a wide berth whenever she was nearby. Solas was still prone to glaring at her when he thought she wasn't looking. Even Varric was uncharacteristically quiet, only speaking with her if she asked him a direct question. Brill hadn't felt so foreign since before the trip to the Hinterlands. Resigned to wait until they forgave her, she stayed quiet. 

As they exited Val Royeaux's gates, someone stepped out of an alcove behind them. Cullen spun around, drawing his sword and putting himself between the stranger and Brill. Cassandra placed a hand on his shoulder. 

"You can relax. That is Grand Enchanter Fiona." She stepped forward to stand beside Cullen. "Why are you here, Fiona? I would think it dangerous for the leader of the Mage Rebellion to walk the streets alone." 

The Grand Enchanter ducked her head in confirmation and looked at the mark on Brill's hand, "I wanted to see the fabled Herald of Andraste with my own eyes. And to offer my help. You seek to close the Breach, yes?" She met Brill's eyes, her gaze shining with curiosity and... fear? 

Brill gave Fiona a hard look. "Shouldn't you be dead? Were you not at the Conclave?" 

Fiona tsked at her in response. "I sent representatives, as did the Lord Seeker, which was prudent, in light of the Conclave's," she paused furtively, "unfortunate outcome."

Cullen went tense. "Was that your doing? One final blow to the Chantry, leaving little hope for rebuilding the Circles?" His voice rose with emotion. "I lost many friends at the Conclave explosion.". 

Fiona smiled wanly. "As did I. Hate us if you must, templar, but the mages stood to benefit the most if peace had been achieved. As it stands, we are scattered, hiding in caves and remote areas. We are hunted by all, not just templars." She looked back to Brill. "A large group of mages have taken refuge in Redcliffe, in the Hinterlands. Meet us there. We can discuss closing the Breach together." Bowing her head, she disappeared back into the alcove. 

"Redcliffe? I spent days trying to get in there!" Brill looked around at her companions, astonished and frustrated. "If they had let me in, we might have already closed the Breach!" 

Cassandra looked wary. "Something strange is going on here. We should return to Haven as quickly as possible. I will send a raven to Leliana. Get the horses ready." 

No one else had anything to say. They gathered the horses and headed home. 

Tension was rife among the traveling party. Her friends all but ignoring her, Brill remained quiet for the entire week-long trip back to Haven. 

* * *

Leliana met them at the gates, ushering Brill, Cassandra, and Cullen to the war room as Solas and Varric took care of the horses. Brill, out of the corner of her eye, saw Horsemaster Dennet speak briefly with Solas, then whip a glare to Brill. She pretended not to see him. Leliana caught them up as they walked, telling them of new recruits and the contacts that had been pouring in since the news of Brill's near assassination had spread across Thedas. 

The biggest success had come in the form of none other than the Enchanter to the Imperial Court of Orlais, Madame de Fer herself. She had heard of the attempt on the Herald's life and sought to ingratiate herself with the Inquisition, offering to join them in Haven. Madame de Fer was well known as a master of The Game, and her interest in the Inquisition could only mean that people were beginning to take them seriously. Josephine, Leliana told them, was overjoyed to have someone of such influence join their cause. Madame de Fer was set to arrive in Haven with a large envoy in three days' time. Josephine was beside herself, working every able body in Haven from dawn to dusk in preparation of their arrival. 

Their progress was evident as the group walked to the Chantry. Several new buildings had been erected, and workers were running to and fro, carrying rugs, crudely constructed furniture, freshly stitched mattresses, and many other types of basic housewares. Brill had never heard of Madame de Fer, but she figured the woman must be incredibly important if her mere presence resulted in this flurry of activity. 

Leliana had been trying to reach the Wardens, the famed warriors who gave their lives to protect Thedas from darkspawn. Brill was surprised to hear that they were missing. Another Blight was unlikely, the last having occurred only a decade before, but with the world in chaos, it seemed prudent that the Wardens would be actively patrolling. The only lead Leliana had found were some reports of a Warden Blackwall recruiting in the Hinterlands. She had sent some scouts to talk with him, but he refused to come to Haven; he was busy helping villagers in the area learn to defend their lands from the banditry that was widespread in the wake of the war. 

A well-respected mercenary group had sent a messenger to Haven, requesting Brill's presence on the Storm Coast to the north. They wanted the Inquisition to hire them as additional forces, but Josephine was hesitant to pay them their exorbitant fees before seeing them in action. The Inquisition's coffers were small, although day by day they were receiving more support. Brill privately wondered why Josephine expected _her_ to be a good judge of the mercenaries' skills, but then she assumed they would send someone with more expertise along with her when she went. 

Cullen was visibly relieved when Leliana reported that a small group of some fifteen templars had arrived in Haven a few days before, led by a Ser Delrin Barris. He was in Val Royeaux during their confrontation with the Lord Seeker, and had taken Cullen's plea to heart. He spent several days convincing some other templars to leave the Order, and they had left the Lord Seeker's group in secret, traveling as quickly and inconspicuously as possible to Haven. The group was put to work within the Inquisition's army, helping to train the new recruits. 

As they entered the Chantry, Leliana finished up her reports, "Josephine is currently working to establish trade relations with a dwarven merchant group so that the Inquisition will have a reliable supply of lyrium for the templars."

Cullen stopped short, clenching his right hand into a fist. Cassandra reached out and gently touched his elbow, and Cullen shook his head a little and resumed walking towards the war room. 

* * *

Brill stood in a corner in the war room, once again listening to the advisors argue. 

"The templars are our best hope! We already have a group here. Surely they could contact their brethren still with the Order-"

"You can't be serious, Cullen. The templars here are fearful for their lives. Those still in the Order will want their heads for desertion." Leliana looked at him with pity. 

"There have to be more like them out there. We cannot," he pounded a fist on the table, "sit back and let them be consumed by the Lord Seeker’s ambition. They can help." 

"The mages could provide more power. And they _want_ to speak with us." Leliana reminded him. 

"I was a templar and I know what they're capable of," Cullen said vehemently. "The mages are unorganized. If we bring them here, this close to the Breach, we risk abominations. We have nowhere near enough templars to deal with that threat." 

A cold shiver shot up Brill's spine at his words, and she coughed. 

Everyone looked at her. 

Josephine raised an eyebrow. "Do you have some thoughts, Herald?" 

Brill squirmed a little, once again uncomfortable with the weight of making decisions placed on her shoulders. "We should meet with Fiona in Redcliffe. She sought us out, while the templars turned their backs. I am more comfortable approaching a group that wants to help." 

Cullen raked his fingers through his hair, "Herald, it could be a trap, for all we know. You must admit that Fiona showing up alone in Val Royeaux was bizarre, if not outright suspicious." Cullen was a mess. His hands were twitchy, constantly fidgeting and rubbing his temples, the back of his neck. His jaw was clenched and she could see the tendons in his neck straining against the collar of his armor. 

"I'm going to Redcliffe," Brill said. "We will rest in Haven, then head out the day after tomorrow." 

Cullen snarled and stormed out of the room, pushing past Cassandra, who gave him a look of concern as he left. 

"I will talk to him," she said to the women. She looked at Brill. "Please inform Varric and Solas of our impending trip."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Tuesday chapter!
> 
> Regular postings will still be on Saturdays, but I got far enough ahead I decided to drop an extra chapter this week. I hope you enjoy. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	9. Novitiate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan attempts to make amends for her behavior in the Val Royeaux Chantry. Solas doesn't trust her to keep herself alive.
> 
> * * *
> 
> _"After lunch, I am bringing in a templar."_
> 
> _Brill froze, choking on the water she had just taken into her mouth. When she recovered from the coughing fit, she stuttered. "I, uh, I don't think that's, well, it wouldn't be-"_
> 
> _He cut her off with a wave, giving her a gentle look. "I know, Herald. Nothing quite compares to the feeling of a Holy Smite. But you must overcome this fear. You must, at the very least, learn to sense a smite and defend against it." He sighed apologetically. "You will not learn if you refuse to face the possibility."_

Approaching Varric was easy. Brill had very much grown to like his candor. He always let her know exactly what he thought and would gladly give advice, if he had any. When she found him standing by the bonfire near his tent, however, he gave her a stony look. 

"Need something?" He asked impassively. 

Brill sat down on a stone near the fire. "I'm sorry, Varric, for whatever I did to upset you."

Varric did not sit. He crossed his arms over his chest. "For 'whatever you did'? That doesn't sound like someone who's sorry to me." 

He had a point. 

She sighed. "Yes. I know you're angry with me. That all of you are angry with me. But I don't know why. I wish to fix it." 

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Herald, I'd like to help you, I really would, but I'm not interested in 'fix-it' apologies. Now what did you need?"

She stood up. "Varric, how can I apologize if I don't know what to apologize for?" 

"What’s the point of apologizing if you can’t find anything to apologize for? I'm not up for being your spiritual guide today.” He uncrossed his arms and used a nearby stick to poke at the fire. “I'll ask one more time. What do you need?" 

Brill stared at him for a moment before responding. "Fine. We're going to Redcliffe, leaving the day after tomorrow. I'd like you to join us." 

He didn't look at her. "That's what I'm here for. Thanks for the heads up." 

She was dismissed. 

* * *

Approaching Solas was not easy at the best of times. Approaching Solas after her conversation with easygoing Varric had gone poorly was even less appealing. She considered sending a note, but eventually dismissed the thought as childish. He would not appreciate avoidance. She straightened her spine and walked to the apothecary's hut, where Solas was known to sit and read. 

She found him lost in thought, looking up at the Breach in the sky. She approached him cautiously, anticipating the bite that she knew would come. A twig snapped under her foot, and he turned sharply, his thoughts broken by her intrusion. 

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked. His voice was as cold as ice. 

She flinched, but moved toward him, "We are to leave for the Hinterlands in two days. I came to-" 

"I will not be accompanying you." He turned away from her, signaling an end to their conversation. 

Brill felt her cheeks flush. "You will not be accompanying me? Why? Your expertise is invaluable! We will need you when we speak with the mages. They will listen to you when you explain what needs to be done." She paused, waiting for a response. He gave none. He was motionless, his body rigid. 

She tried again. "Solas, your presence will provide them a sense of security. They need to see that mages walk freely in Haven. With the Inquisition. We need their trust if we want to convince them to help us close the Breach." 

He turned to look at her, finally. "Be that as it may, I am unable to go with you." He didn't say anything more. He just looked at her, indecipherable emotion playing at his brows and lips. 

She asked again, "Why?" 

He blew out a frustrated breath, considering her. "You realize that, within a month's time, you have been nearly killed on no less than three occasions. You were smited and nearly died. You were thrown from your horse and could have died. You were attacked and, rather than defend yourself, you nearly died." His voice rose to a near shout as he spoke. He collected himself and swallowed before continuing. "I refuse to watch you kill yourself. You are too important," he hesitated briefly, "to the Inquisition."

Brill’s eyebrows shot up. "I will admit that being thrown from my horse was monumentally stupid. But how am I to blame for the rest?" 

He stepped closer to Brill with a sneer, condescension rolling off of him, "Any experienced battlemage can sense a templar preparing a Holy Smite long before it is cast. From what Cassandra described, you were oblivious to the man's presence before he had you on the ground." A small crowd of people began to gather, watching them as they argued. Solas continued, not noticing or not caring, she couldn't say which. "There are countless defensive spells for stopping projectiles. You might have utilized any one of them to stop that dagger the instant you saw it. You might have put up a barrier, or bolstered your armor. But you did not. We are lucky it did not pierce your heart."

Solas's voice was sharp with anger, and he moved closer as he spoke, eyes boring into her own as he slowly stalked around her. Brill felt a small frisson in her gut. She straightened her shoulders and gave him a defiant look. A small titter went up from the crowd. Bolstered by the audience, she raised her voice. 

"So you would abandon the Inquisition? Walk away instead of teach me?" 

He blinked at her, suddenly aware of the eyes upon them. Uncharacteristically disarmed, he replied, "I would consider doing so." 

She smiled at him sweetly, for the benefit of the crowd. "I will meet you on the training grounds after supper." She turned, leaving Solas to the throng of people as she pushed through them. 

* * *

Solas's training session was brutal. He commissioned some of the Inquisition troops to act as opponents, instructing them to target the Herald in a multitude of ways. They began with one-on-one combat, having her use blasts of ice and wind to deflect a shield bash, or freezing spells to stop a sword arm from completing its deadly arc. She learned to use her barrier to detect incoming projectiles, summoning hailstones and wind gusts to swat them down before they reached her. 

The Inquisition soldiers were thrilled on the sidelines, eager for their turn on the field. They yelled out words of encouragement to the Herald, shouted advice, and cheered when she performed a successful block. They goaded their fellow soldiers, driving them to attack her harder, quicker, with more certainty. The spectacle of it drew more people to the area, and they joined in to form a raucous crowd. 

She had already known how to do the things they were teaching her; she had simply never _had_ to do it. Solas made sure that her defenses became second nature, demanding that the Inquisition soldiers landed their blows when she failed to stop them. Eventually, she was able to effectively stop a lone attacker from completing any number of attacks. Goal met, the stakes were raised. The number of opponents was increased to two, three, four. Her limit was five. With five assailants, she was unable to prevent them all from reaching her, no matter what tactics Solas recommended. 

Exhausted and thirsty after her most recent skirmish, she got a drink from the water bucket hanging on the wooden fence bordering the training yard. Solas approached her. 

"It is nearly dark. Let us stop for the evening. Get some rest and we will resume tomorrow. If I am pleased with your progress, I shall join you in Redcliffe." He was looking at the Breach again as he spoke. 

"Thank you, Solas." Brill said with a tired smile. He looked at her and all of his earlier anger was gone. He moved toward her but then stopped his hand, shaking his head so minutely that she might have imagined it. He dropped his hand.

"Goodnight, Herald," he said, and walked away.

* * *

Brill made her way back to her cabin, feeling bruised and achy all over. Her thoughts turned to Cullen, which surprised her. She avoided thinking about him as much as possible, but she was worried. He was an awkward man, but usually quite composed. She had never seen him as distraught as he'd been earlier that day. She was also still feeling guilt for what she'd done to him in Val Royeaux. She had been awful to all of them, really, but allowing the Chantry sisters to believe the worst of him was her greatest regret. She wanted to find him and apologize.

She hadn't seen him at all on the training grounds during her session with the soldiers, which was odd, as most people in the village thought he slept there. She went to his usual spots as she walked through Haven, but didn’t find him. Her next stop was the Chantry. His door was closed and she raised her fist to knock. 

"Do not disturb him, Herald," Cassandra said wearily from behind her. 

Brill jumped. She’d thought she was alone in the corridor. "I just want to apologize to him for what happened at the Chantry," she said in explanation. 

Cassandra grabbed Brill's elbow and dragged her away from the door. "That is not what he needs right now. You will have to live with your guilt for another day." She escorted Brill to the end of the hallway, and waited for Brill to go. 

Brill didn't go. "I wish to apologize to you, too."

Cassandra raised her eyebrows. "Oh?" She looked dubious.

Brill swallowed, desperate for her friend to be her friend again. "Yes. I was terrible to you in Val Royeaux. I know you were doing your best to help, and I was not appreciative. I should have been." 

Cassandra's face softened a bit. "I have some time, if you wish to join me in the tavern."

Brill smiled in relief. " Yes, I would enjoy that." 

The two women walked out of the Chantry, side by side and comfortable in each other's company once again. 

* * *

They passed by Varric's tent near the bonfire. Brill gestured to Cassandra to stop and approached him, hoping things might go smoother this time. 

"What is it now?" he asked rudely.

Brill looked at Cassandra, who nodded to her in support. She walked over and stood in front of him with her hands clasped chastely in front of her. 

"Varric Tethras, I am ashamed of my behavior in Val Royeaux's Chantry. My attitude toward you and Cassandra was abysmal and uncalled for. I value your friendship, and I should have shown you appreciation for your help." She stopped and searched his face, hoping for his reprieve. 

Varric gave her a hard look, and Brill forced herself to hold his gaze. 

A wide smile spread across his face. "Well shit, Frosty, why didn't you just say that earlier?" He clapped her on the shoulder and laughed. "Apology accepted, Herald. Thanks." His face turned serious. "Have you talked with Curly?"

Cassandra spoke up, "Commander Cullen is unavailable. I am sure he is not bothered by what transpired at the Chantry at the moment." 

Varric gave her an odd look, then shrugged. "If you say so, Seeker. So, Frosty, care to hit the tavern? I've heard there are a lot of new faces in town." 

"Cassandra and I were just on our way to the tavern. You're welcome to join, of course." 

Varric looked at Cassandra in question. 

Cassandra scoffed, "Come along, then, if you must." 

* * *

Brill woke the next morning with a dry mouth and a dull headache. She, Cassandra, and Varric had spent the evening drinking mead and telling stories among the tavern patrons. At some point, Sera, the new recruit from Val Royeaux, had joined them and offered Brill something she'd called "Alvarado's Bathtub Boot Screech". Brill's memories of the night got a little hazy after that, though she distinctly remembered Sera walking her home and pinching her backside as she entered the cabin. 

Brill had spun around, spluttering, hands covering her bottom as Sera dashed off, shouting, "It needed pinching and I don't regret it!" 

She crawled out of bed, heading for the water bucket hanging outside of the cabin door before walking to the latrine. When she returned to her cabin, she looked longingly at her bed, giving serious consideration to climbing back in until her headache resolved itself. No, that wouldn’t do. Solas would come looking for her if she didn't show up to train after breakfast. She resigned herself to the next few hours of misery, donned her gear, and headed out the door. 

Solas was waiting impatiently when she arrived, and set her up on the field against a brute of a warrior, his shield alone larger than Brill. Joining the giant were two archers and a dual-wielding rogue who was spinning his daggers with a gleam of malice in his eyes. 

Obviously, she was going to be punished for her tardiness. 

The fight was atrocious. She was slow to react, taking a shield bash to the shoulder which knocked her to the ground. The soldiers didn't let up, continuing the attack as she struggled to right herself. She barely managed to deflect a flying dagger before it sliced off her ear, but Solas had to step in and halt an arrow mere inches from impaling her eye. 

He strolled over to her, hands clasped behind his back. "That display was... displeasing," he huffed, "had I not intervened, you would have lost that eye." 

Brill shriveled under his scrutiny. "I'm sorry, I have a terrible headache, and-" 

"Yes, I heard of the Herald's carousing last night. I believe I instructed you to rest." 

She looked momentarily ashamed. "I did rest. Eventually." 

Solas surveyed her for a moment, then sighed and placed his fingertips on her temples. Brill felt the familiar tendrils of his magic brushing against hers as he gently probed her inflamed meninges. She relaxed into his touch with relief, wanting to lean against his chest as he healed the damage. Solas stiffened, but continued his ministrations, and his magic pulsed into her with a bit more force. Emboldened, Brill pushed her own magic against his, stroking the tendrils of his magic with hers. 

Solas dropped his hands with a sharp intake of breath. He did not look at her. "That should help. Let's continue." 

The next few hours were as brutal as they had been the day before, but she was improving. Brill was still unable to defend against five assailants, but her reaction times were better. She was even able to sense and deflect the spells that Solas randomly sent her way while she was defending against the bigger, more physical threats. At the end of the session, when they broke for lunch, Solas met her at the water bucket. 

"After lunch, I am bringing in a templar." 

Brill froze, choking on the water she had just taken into her mouth. When she recovered from the coughing fit, she stuttered. "I, uh, I don't think that's, well, it wouldn't be-" 

He cut her off with a wave, giving her a gentle look. "I know, Herald. Nothing quite compares to the feeling of a Holy Smite. But you must overcome this fear. You must, at the very least, learn to sense a smite and defend against it." He sighed apologetically. "You will not learn if you refuse to face the possibility." 

Brill forced herself to walk when she left the field. 

* * *

It was all she could do to force herself back to the training grounds. As she walked, she probed her mind for excuses to stop the training. Finding none, she thought maybe she should just quit the Inquisition and go home to her clan. There were no templars there. By the time she arrived on the field, she had accepted that there was no way to avoid the horror awaiting her. 

Solas looked grim as she approached him. 

"This is Ser Barris," he said, "he was in Val Royeaux with Lord Seeker Lucius. Ser Barris has agreed to cast the Holy Smite, but he will not hit you with it directly." He looked to Ser Barris in confirmation, and the templar nodded solemnly. "The point of this exercise is for you to learn to recognize the distinct changes in your barrier when the Holy Smite is being charged." 

Brill nodded once. She was trying not to shake.

Solas directed her and the templar to take up their places on the field, which they did. Brill forced her feet to move one by one as she found her spot. 

"Herald, please cast your barrier." 

Brill did as she was told, the barrier enveloping her with a sense of safety. 

"Ser Barris, you are free to cast the smite when you are ready." 

Brill braced for it, willing herself not to scream. She watched in horror as the templar took a swig of lyrium from a bottle and began to cast. She felt the templar manipulating the Veil, her heart raced, her barrier pulled beyond her control with the force of his charge. The templar's spell was unnatural, not at all like when a mage was drawing from the Fade. Wild fear sent ice cold barbs up her spine and across all of her limbs, the hair on her arms rising in response to the terrifyingly familiar wrongness of Ser Barris's use of Fade energy. Goosebumps pimpled her skin and cold sweat burst from her pores. 

Ser Barris opened his mouth to speak, and Brill's heart froze in her chest. Her mind went blank. She dropped her staff and fled blindly from the field.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exposure therapy should only be attempted under the guidance of trained professionals. 
> 
> I'm currently working on Chapter 17. 
> 
> Next chapter will drop on Saturday. Thank you for reading!


	10. Absentee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisition scrambles to find Lavellan.
> 
> * * *
> 
> _She licked her lips, chapped from the cold, her tongue dry from the lack of water. Water. She had to find water. She listened again, hoping to pick out the sound of a stream, or the splash of an animal in a pond. Her stomach cramped, grumbling angrily, momentarily overwhelming the sounds of the forest._

_I must stop her._

He runs after her, legs pumping furiously, unable to match her pace, helpless as she lengthens the distance between them.

_Too slow too slow too slow she must slow down._

He slows, unable to maintain his pathetic speed, lungs burning, calves on fire. 

_I cannot catch her. I cannot stop her!_

He shouts her name, desperation forcing the last of the air out of his chest as he stumbles, falls, looks up.

_No, she must not! She must not enter the forest!_

He loses sight of her as she disappears amidst the trees, out of sight. He drops his forehead to the ground. 

_She is gone._

* * *

_She does not have her staff!_

He shouts as the humans call off their search, telling him it's too dark, it's too large an area to search, it's too late, they're too tired. 

_She is the Herald. The Herald! The Inquisition dies without her!_

He curses them as they shake their heads, turn back towards Haven, back to warm fires and soft beds, promising to search in the morning. 

_Dirthara-ma! Ar tu na'lin emma mi!_

His curses fall on deaf ears fading into the distance. He is alone. 

_She is lost._

* * *

_Herald! Lavellan! Brill!_

He calls out in the Fade, casts his magic like a net in all directions, probing, searching, looking for her consciousness in the Fade.

_She's not here. She should be here._

Casts again, probes again, searches again, fails again. 

_Why is she not here? Why? Why why why WHY? BRILL!_

Voice ragged from shouting, mana draining as he casts further, faster, finding nothing.

_She is dead._

* * *

Brill regained her wits as she landed on her face in a damp pile of dead leaves, overcome with the smell of fungi and dead things. Body exhausted, emotionally drained, she slowly lifted her head. Trees. All around, in every direction, she saw nothing but trees. The forest was dense, dark, the stars in the sky just barely managing to shine through the canopy above. 

She sat up, noting the massive tree root that tripped her. It was a moonless night, and she couldn't make out much beyond the trees in the immediate area. She sat quietly for several minutes, listening for sounds of civilization. She gave it up as the forest came to life around her, having decided that she was not a threat. She breathed in the forest air, foreign yet familiar, reminding her of home with her clan. 

_I won't be finding my way out of here tonight,_ she thought. _Not in the dark. Not in a forest._ She felt the ground around her, gathering twigs and leaves, everything she found damp and useless for fueling a fire. She conjured up a small ball of flame in her right hand, the only fire-based spell she was capable of. The tiny flame did little to illuminate her surroundings, but it helped. 

She licked her lips, chapped from the cold, her tongue dry from the lack of water. Water. She had to find water. She listened again, hoping to pick out the sound of a stream, or the splash of an animal in a pond. Her stomach cramped, grumbling angrily, momentarily overwhelming the sounds of the forest. 

When her stomach relented, she turned her ear to the forest once more, listening. The deep growls and croaks of a fallow deer in rut sent a chill up her spine, even knowing what it was. Owls screeched and tittered to each other from high in the trees, holding their nightly council. Then, she heard her salvation. A splash. To her right, and not far off. She rose gingerly, careful not to disturb the forest detritus at her feet. Moving painfully slow, she listened for another. 

There. She was heading in the right direction. Taking a calming breath, she continued. As she moved closer to the intermittent splashing, she began to hear water trickling. It was faint, but she was sure. Slowly, so slowly, she glided silently through the forest, eventually finding herself in a tiny clearing. The canopy was thin enough there that the stars sparkled off of a narrow pond, hardly more than a puddle. She extinguished her flame to allow her mana to recharge. 

Brill made her way to the trickle of clear mountain water from the melting frozen peaks. She lowered her face to the stream, gasping as the frigid water hit her lips. Thirst sated, she found a large tree and sat, leaning against it. She would not sleep tonight; she needed to be aware of the dangers lurking in the forest. Brill cast a barrier, and waited for dawn. 

* * *

Dawn, a normally quiet and leisurely time of day in Haven, arrived to a flurry of activity. Messengers ran from building to building, rousing the inhabitants and relaying orders to report for duty. The meal tent was packed, cooks working furiously to provide breakfast for a few hundred people within the space of an hour. Officers conferred with one another around a makeshift table in front of the Chantry, discussing routes and areas to cover in the search effort. Raised voices sang out from inside of the Chantry.

“You did _what_?” Cassandra rounded on Solas, grabbing the apostate by his collar and shoving him against a large wooden pillar in the hall. 

Anger flashed in his eyes, his barrier washing brightly over his skin. “It does not matter! Finding her matters! She was not in the Fade. I could not find her!” 

The day before, Solas had found Cassandra in the Chantry and told her that the Herald had gone into a panic after running into one of the templars. She had disappeared into the woods, and he was unable to locate her. Cassandra was puzzled by his hysterics until he’d told her that the Herald did not have her staff. She’d gathered a group of available men and they headed to the place where the Herald had last been seen. 

The group had scoured a portion of the forest late into the night, scouts occasionally finding what could be her trail, or could as easily have belonged to deer. The group stayed close together, not wanting to be separated or to spread their efforts too thin. They called out for the Herald, waited for a response, called out again, waited; over and over again, receiving no answer. 

Cassandra had finally called off the search, knowing that they were getting too deep into the forest, that the men were tired. Solas had lost his mind, making threats and cursing in elvish, lashing out at the forest itself with his magic. Cassandra was well-acquainted with the elf’s unhinged reactions when the Herald was in danger, and she had had enough. She rallied the men and left Solas behind, returning to Haven with his curses at their backs. She had not seen him again until this morning when the Inquisition advisors met in the Chantry to discuss the search efforts. 

Cassandra requested that Ser Barris be present at the morning meeting, as he was the templar who had spooked the Herald. Cassandra was aghast when she learned that Solas had exposed her to a Holy Smite with absolutely no precautions put into place. She had experienced battle trauma herself, had known many in her life who had experienced the same. Had Cassandra been aware of the severity of the Herald’s fear, she would have coached her through it herself. Safely.

Presently, Cassandra was so enraged that she yanked Solas towards her and violently slammed him into the pillar again, earning herself a painful blast from his barrier. She jerked back, drawing her sword, challenging Solas to a duel right there in the middle of the Chantry. 

“Cassandra!” Leliana barked as Varric caught Cassandra in a bear hug. Ser Barris stepped menacingly toward Solas, a silent warning to keep his magic sheathed. The hall fell silent, everyone waiting to see who would act next. 

“If I may,” Josephine said primly, “I suggest we first _find_ the Herald. You can kill each other after she is safe. If you must.”

“A fine idea,” Leliana looked around, “shall we go and speak with our officers, now? Or do we require bloodshed to proceed?”

Cassandra shook Varric off of her. “I will not kill him. Yet.” Giving Solas a look that promised future violence, she stormed out of the Chantry, slamming the door open so hard that dust fell from the rafters. 

Solas waited a moment, then followed Cassandra through the exit without a word. 

* * *

Brill heard a twig snap nearby and jerked, having nearly dozed off as she leaned against the tree. Daylight was beginning to peek between the leaves of the trees above, and she decided that she had waited long enough. She drank long from the stream before departing, wishing she had a container to store some water in before venturing off. She looked around, surveying the tiny clearing. 

It stood to reason that Haven would be in the direction that the stream was running. Haven was surrounded on three sides by mountains, and any running water would be coming _from_ the mountains, _toward_ Haven. Brill was reasonably sure that she hadn’t crossed over a mountain in her panic. The problem she now faced was that the stream ended where she stood, pooling into the small pond at her feet. She would have to ensure she traveled in a straight line. 

Brill gathered two handfuls of long, thin twigs, and began to walk. Every few steps, she planted a twig in the mud, marking her path. Each time she placed a marker, she checked to make sure that it lined up with the previous two. Whenever a tree blocked her path, she ripped bark from its trunk to mark her passing. Progress was slow, but she would rather be late than hopelessly lost. 

After several hours of methodical walking, Brill was exhausted. Her stomach’s complaints had graduated from rumbles of hunger to spikes of pain, her cracked lips were burning, and she desperately needed a drink of water. She forged on, stopping suddenly when she heard voices. She listened, not moving a muscle as she tried to determine where the voices were coming from. 

“- volunteered because I wanted a promotion to Knight-Corporal,” a young male voice said, “but this is not worth it.”

“At least _you_ decided to be here,” said a second voice, also a young male, “the Knight-Lieutenant volunteered _me_. Don’t know what I did to deserve this.”

The first voice answered wryly, “Might be because you stole his new socks.”

“I did not!”

Brill felt a wave of fear wash over her. Templars. She struggled to control her breathing as the familiar panic threatened to overtake her. Her heart pounded away in her stomach, and she reached up to rub her temples, trying to clear the blood from her ears. 

She forgot she was holding twigs. 

The traitorous twigs dropped to the ground with a soft clatter. The voices nearby abruptly stopped talking. She held her breath as she waited, praying that they would brush it off as a passing animal. 

One of the voices let out a sigh, “Fine, I’ll check it out. It’s your turn next time.” Brill heard someone walking through the underbrush, kicking up leaves and making a terrible racket. She bent down and found a good sized rock, then stood up and threw it as hard as she could, hoping to create a distraction. It worked. The footsteps stopped for a long moment, then carried off in the direction of the rock. Brill relaxed, closing her eyes for a moment and leaning against a tree to catch her breath, as silently as she could. 

When her eyes opened, she was looking directly into the face of a teenager in templar armor. 

* * *

Cassandra heard sounds of fighting coming from deeper in the woods. At first, she’d thought she was imagining things, but now she was certain. The shouting and sounds of struggle were unmistakable. She pressed on, unable to tell precisely where the noises were coming from. 

* * *

The templar yelled, “I found her!” and drew his sword, adopting a battle-ready pose as his companion loped up to them through the leaves. Brill held up her hands in surrender, not wanting to hurt these _len’alasan_. They were filthy, faces oily and dirt smudged. One of them had a painful-looking pimple on the end of his nose, a bulbous pustule surrounded by tight, inflamed skin. The boys’ armor was dull and splattered with mud, and they reeked of woodsmoke and rancid body odor. Clearly, they had been traveling for quite some time, and hadn’t bothered to bathe or maintain their equipment. But why were they here? In the woods, so near to Haven? Despite them holding weapons on her, she pitied them. 

“Are you here to join the Inquisition?” she asked quietly. 

The pimpled one scoffed. “The Inquisition? The Inquisition run by a heretical, knife-eared mage?” He laughed sardonically, looking at his comrade, “Are you hearing this bitch?”

The other boy looked unsure. “Maybe we should let her go.” Brill gave him a pleading look. At that moment, the mark on her hand flashed and released a sharp sound of static. She was shocked. It hadn’t done that since she’d closed the rift below the Breach. She had actually forgotten that it tended to do that. 

The templars jumped back, weapons held lax in their hands as they stared. A malicious smile slowly crept across Pimple’s face. 

“It’s _her_.” 

Brill threw up a barrier and cast an ice wall between her and the templars, but the wall was long and low, running out to the sides instead of towering into the air. Without her staff, her spells were unfocused, and she turned to flee. She managed to run several yards when something wrapped around her ankle and yanked her foot backward, sending her sprawling on the ground. A grappling chain. She clawed at the mud as she was dragged, prone, toward the templars. 

“Don’t kill her,” one of the boys said in warning, “we bring her back to the Lord Seeker and we’ll be celebrated like kings.” There was a pause. “How do we get her back, though? She’s a mage.”

Brill used their distraction to her advantage, exploding her barrier in a wall of force that knocked them to the ground. She quickly put up a new barrier and worked to untangle the chain wrapped around her ankle. Just as she got to her feet, she was tackled to the ground by one of the boys, his putrid smell invading her senses as she struggled to free herself. She summoned a blizzard, drawing too much on her mana, but it was effective. Too effective. It slowed her as much as it did her opponents, all three of them clambering to get out of the frigid wind and biting snow as it pelted their eyes, blinding them. 

The blizzard subsided, and the battle resumed. Brill used the lessons she’d gleaned from her sessions with Solas and the Inquisitions soldiers, but her defenses were sloppy, unfocused, and she was unable to counter their strikes with offenses of her own. Her barrier was broken when one of the templars managed to connect a solid shield bash. She drew on the energy released by the barrier and sent ice directly into their cores, intent on freezing them solid for just long enough to get a headstart. To her dismay, only one of them froze, leaving Pimple free to attack. He didn’t. Instead, he grabbed a small bottle of lyrium from his belt. 

Brill noticed and Fade-stepped behind the frozen templar, desperate for something to prevent the Holy Smite that she _knew_ was coming. She tried to cast another barrier, but her mana was depleted. The templar’s spell was bleeding her dry. Frantically, she checked the frozen templar’s belt, but he had no lyrium. She found a dagger and a disturbing, thrilling, _forbidden_ solution came to her in an instant. Brill felt the wrongness in the air as Pimple prepared his Smite and it compelled her to act. Grabbing the dagger, she plunged it into the frozen templar’s neck, reckless anticipation overtaking her as icy blood spurted from his throat in rivulets. She drew on the dying templar’s pain, gathering as much energy as she could while the blood ran down her arm, filling her with the familiar, intoxicating feeling of indestructibility. 

Pimple’s eyes went wide when he saw his companion bleeding out, but he did not cease powering his smite. Brill focused solely on his destruction. She sent out a magnificent pulse that caused the surrounding trees to fly, crashing down in all directions. Pimple was slammed into the ground, his smite disrupted, and Brill was on him with the dagger in an instant, power and elation flowing through her veins. She slit his throat with glee and collapsed beside him, laughing hysterically as the two of them lay in the blood-sodden mud, one gurgling his last breaths while the other savored her own. 

* * *

Cassandra stood rooted to the ground, revulsion flowing through her in waves as she watched the Herald of Andraste reveling in the gore and carnage surrounding her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was simultaneously super fun to write and super hard to write. I really struggled with letting Brill cast aside some of her inner demons. The upcoming chapter was a challenge, too. Lots of research into blood magic was involved, of which there is surprisingly little concrete information. I am working with what I've found in various forums and my own interpretation. I hope you enjoy and also don't hate Brill too much; she's really doing the best she can with what she's got. 
> 
> I'm currently working on Chapter 18.
> 
> Next chapter will drop on Saturday. Thank you for reading!
> 
> Translations:
> 
> _Dirthara'ma! Ar tu na'lin emma mi!_ \- May you learn! I will see your blood on my blade!


	11. Maleficar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan returns to Haven after her ordeal in the woods.
> 
> * * *
> 
> _“I had no staff, no focus, I was outnumbered. It should have been hopeless,” Brill stooped down and grasped Pimple’s hair, hauling his slackened body into a boneless slouch to show her friend the evidence of her glory._
> 
> _“They didn’t realize their mistake until it was much too late,” she smirked arrogantly, “templar or no, they could never have defeated a goddess.”_

Brill languished in the mud for a moment after the templar took his final gurgling breath, delicious adrenaline coursing like pure lyrium through her veins. She was transcendent, possessing the energy and motivation to run to the top of a mountain and fly to the heavens above. She laughed with amusement as she imagined herself flying up through the Breach and into the Fade, where she would annihilate every last demon in residence. She bounced to her feet with excitement at the very idea, wondering which direction would grant her access to the nearest mountain, and -

There was a flash of movement in the corner of her eye. She jerked her body toward the movement in near synchroneity with whatever she’d seen. 

It was Cassandra, ducking behind a nearby surviving tree in a clumsy attempt to escape her notice. She grinned, picturing the Seeker playing hide-and-seek. Cassandra couldn’t know, of course, that Brill’s eyes were currently sharper than those of the keenest hawk’s. She raced over to the tree and found Cassandra waiting for her at the base of its trunk.

“Seeker!” Brill shouted, ecstatic to share the occasion with her dear friend. She pulled Cassandra to her feet. “Did you see the fight? It was incredible!” She danced circles around Cassandra, shepherding her to the heart of her macabre canvas, painted in ichor. “I had no staff, no focus, I was outnumbered. It should have been hopeless,” Brill stooped down and grasped Pimple’s hair, hauling his slackened body into a boneless slouch to show her friend the evidence of her glory. 

“They didn’t realize their mistake until it was much too late,” she smirked arrogantly, “templar or no, they could never have defeated a goddess.”

She returned to her feet and placed Cassandra’s hands in hers, spinning her around in a circle, feet squelching in the crimson mud. Brill asked, “Which way to Haven? We must spread word of my victory. They’ll parade me through the streets, lift my name in song, shower me with gifts and offerings. Solas will be proud!”

Cassandra didn’t answer, but allowed Brill to continue spinning her. 

“Cassandra! Home. Which way?” she grew impatient and glanced around, spotting the dagger in the mud next to Pimple. She snatched it up. “Shall I claim a trophy?” she asked Cassandra, jerking a thumb at Pimple’s ear. 

“Absolutely not!” Cassandra finally spoke, and Brill barked a laugh. 

“I am teasing you, Seeker! I’m not a heathen. I don’t wish to carry someone’s rotting ear in my pocket. Though perhaps I could make an amulet. Wear it around my neck. A warning to other templars.” Cassandra didn’t respond, prompting Brill to peer curiously into her face.

Cassandra was frightened. Fearless Cassandra, terrified of... what? Comprehension hit Brill like a rock slide, the achingly familiar feelings of shame and regret cascading through her, plunging her back to reality.

Cassandra Pentaghast, dragon-slayer, Seeker, Right Hand of the Divine: frightened by the Herald of Andraste.

Brill dropped to her knees, clutching Cassandra’s hands in desperation. “Cassandra, I am so sorry, please forgive me, I can explain. It will not happen again, no one else has to know.”

Cassandra glared down at Brill, her face twisted with consternation and asked, “Is this madness over?” 

Brill nodded vigorously. 

Cassandra rolled her eyes. “Thank the Maker.” 

* * *

With haste, Cassandra helped Lavellan clean herself up. Which, she had to admit, was impossible, as the dainty elf was covered head to toe in dried blood and muck. The two women managed to force Lavellan’s hair into order, crunching out as much grime as they could. Cassandra gave her a long drink from a water skein, then used the remainder to scrub the brown crust from her face. 

Lavellan’s armor and underclothes were problematic, and there was not much to be done. The materials were soaked through and it would be hours before they fully dried. They would have to return to Haven and simply hope no one asked how it was possible to soak up that much blood during a fight with only two casualties. 

Her friend was subdued, but otherwise seemed no worse for wear. Following the terrifying manic episode, Lavellan had been momentarily apologetic. Now, she was the same Lavellan whom Cassandra had known for over a month. To look at her now, Cassandra would never guess that this woman had been showering in blood and cackling like a lunatic a mere fifteen minutes ago. The two made their way to one of the many rendezvous points, Cassandra fretting, Lavellan telling of her ordeal in the forest. 

* * *

Brill had done this before. The only thing new was the group of people she might disappoint. Cringing at the memory, she recalled the look Keeper Deshanna had given her after he’d snapped her out of the haze with an ice-cold bucket of water. He had tracked her for three days before finding her with Innan. He tied her and dragged her back to camp, Brill vacillating between pleas for forgiveness and demands to be set free. That was the last time he had to do it, Innan no longer a concern. 

Since the age of 16, Brill hadn’t touched blood magic. 

Now, like before, Brill reconstructed herself on the inside. She pulled in the wild bits piece by piece until they were all packed away in a box, safe inside her core, just as Keeper Deshanna had taught her. This process had taken days of guided introspection, the first time. She was sloppy, the first time. This time, Brill had it well managed. This time, it took under an hour. 

She thanked the gods above that it was Cassandra who had found her. A templar would likely have struck her down after finding her in that state. She was fairly certain that Cassandra would keep her secret, so long as she did not lose control again. She had offered explanations, but Cassandra was uninterested, not wishing to speak of it, and Brill was happy to let the matter drop. 

The sound of voices yelling intermittently with updates came into focus as they drew closer to the nearest rendezvous point. Brill grew nervous when she realized that everyone would be focused on her in the immediate future. The rendezvous point, thankfully, was only staffed by two Inquisition privates, who sounded their bell sign to call in the search parties. Bells rang across the forest as the call went out, notifying everyone that the search was off. 

Someone gave Brill a stale loaf of bread to eat before the trek back to Haven. She sat cross-legged in the grass, eating ravenously; her hunger had roared back to life at the sight of food. As she ate, she felt someone approach her from behind. Too hungry to care, she continued to shove the bread in her mouth, hardly chewing before gulping it down. Solas walked around to her front, hesitantly waiting for an invitation to join her. Mouth full, she gestured to the ground, and he sat in front of her, knees up with his arms wrapped around them. When she finished chewing, she nodded at him. 

“ _Savhalla_.”

Solas laughed out loud, and Brill raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Of all the things I thought you might say to me, ‘hello’ was not it,” he explained through his laughter. Brill shrugged and continued to eat. Solas watched her for a bit, a frown slowly spreading across his features. She raised another eyebrow in silent question while she chewed. 

“You look... terrible,” he said apologetically. The frown did not leave his face. 

“That’s too bad, because I feel pretty good. This bread is the best thing I have ever eaten,” she raised the bread in a mock toast and took another bite. Solas chuckled softly, but the frown remained. 

“Something is different,” he ventured slowly, “the Veil around you is thinner.” 

Brill looked up at him sharply, food momentarily forgotten. “How strange.” Hoping to convey an air of nonchalance, she took a huge bite of the bread, chewing obnoxiously while he watched her. She said nothing more, and Solas changed the subject. 

“I imagine you’ll want a bath and some rest when we return to Haven. We leave tomorrow for the Hinterlands-”

“You’ll be coming with us?” she interrupted with her mouth full, inadvertently sucking bits of dry bread into her lungs. When she was finished coughing, she repeated the question. 

He smiled at her in amusement. “Cassandra informs me that you killed two templars in the forest, without your staff, and sustained no injuries. I think I can trust you to stay alive, after that.” 

Smiling, Brill popped the last bit of bread into her mouth. She stood. “Walk with me to Haven?”

* * *

Brill was greeted in Haven by a large crowd of people, so she smiled and waved accordingly, Solas at her side. Cassandra had come with them, and shooed away the crowd when Brill’s cheerful facade began to falter. Solas and Cassandra ushered her to her cabin, where she found a wooden tub already filled with hot water for a bath. 

She undressed, peeling her sticky armor and underclothes away from her skin. She tossed them to the floor to be dealt with later. She sank into the tub, a soft groan escaping her as she relaxed. Brill had been chilled to the bone for over a day, and the hot water felt heavenly. She scrubbed the reminders of her ordeal from her skin and hair, and promptly fell asleep. 

She woke with a start some time later, spluttering to remove the bathwater from her nostrils. The water was lukewarm, and Brill hurriedly got out of the tub, drying herself and donning her bedclothes. The shade of the light in the window told her that it was near dusk, and she decided that no one would miss her if she retired early for the night. She clambered into bed, burrowing under the blankets, and was asleep within minutes. 

* * *

Her party was waiting impatiently when Brill arrived at the stables, still bleary-eyed and stumbling as her body refused to give up on sleep. She muttered her apologies and clumsily mounted her horse, looking around. Josephine and Leliana were at the gates to give their customary goodbyes. She didn’t see Cullen. She _hadn’t_ seen Cullen since his outburst at the war table two days prior. Brill turned to Cassandra. 

“Where is Commander Cullen?”

Cassandra didn’t look at her. “He left for the Storm Coast yesterday morning.” Brill waited, but the Seeker offered no more information. 

The party waved their goodbyes and departed for the Hinterlands, Cullen’s absence weighing heavily on Brill’s mind. She was uneasy with the fact that their last interaction had been one in which they’d disagreed, compounded by regret over how she had handled things in Val Royeaux. Despite her aversion to his templar status, Cullen had been the first person in the Inquisition who had made her feel welcome. He treated her as an equal from the start, had _liked_ her, even though she was a Dalish elf with magic. Selfishly, she had come to depend on his constant presence. 

He would have told her he was leaving, if things were okay between them. He wouldn’t have left for the Storm Coast whilst she was missing, if she hadn’t pushed him away so many times. Brill wallowed in the idea that she had ruined their friendship, hurt him too many times. She wished she had talked to him, told him why she couldn’t look at him. Then again, she reminded herself, she wouldn’t have done that, even if she were given the chance to do it over. She couldn’t have done that, her Templar Terror ruling her responses. 

_Reactive versus proactive_ . Keeper Deshanna had drilled that lesson into her soul, fruitlessly, it now seemed. She had been reactive, avoiding her fears instead of facing them head on. She vowed to stop running. The world couldn’t afford for Brill to run, and the Inquisition would fail without her at the helm. _Without the_ mark _at the helm_ , she amended, gathering up the escaped wild bit and placing it back in her core where it belonged. 

Varric’s voice interrupted her woebegone thoughts, “Hey Frosty!”

“Yes, Varric?” Brill responded suspiciously. 

“I’m bored. Let’s race!” Varric took off on his horse, and Brill clicked her tongue, urging hers into a canter.

“Slow down, you absolute fools!” Cassandra called out behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday! This chapter is on the short side. As a peace offering, I'll post chapter 12 later today!  
> As always, thank you for reading!
> 
> Translations:
> 
> _Savhalla_ \- Greetings


	12. Skirmisher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan is back in the Hinterlands, dealing with all sorts of weird shit.
> 
> * * *
> 
> _“That was -” Brill started._
> 
> _“Weird shit,” finished Varric with a shudder. “I’m tired of weird shit. Why is there always weird shit?”_
> 
> _“I don’t know,” Brill replied, still catching her breath, “but we had better find the Grand Enchanter and ask her what’s going on here.”_

They’d spent the past three days scouring the Hinterlands for Leliana’s lone warden, and Brill was _pissed_. The man had to be the most elusive in all of Thedas. She wanted to go straight to Redcliffe and negotiate with Grand Enchanter Fiona, but Leliana insisted that they prioritize recruiting this “Blackwall”. They were on their way to the Inquisition outpost located near the Upper Lake. Again. 

When they’d checked in two days ago, her scouts had reported no sign of the warden. This morning, however, they received a raven while they ate breakfast at Dwarfson's Pass. The missive told them that the warden had been spotted near a cabin on the lake, training some farmers for combat. Breakfast abandoned, Brill and her party hastily saddled their horses and made for the lake. 

When they arrived there was no need for the scouts to tell them where to look. Sounds of combat clanged through the air, and Brill signaled to her comrades to ride with her to the source. The scene that greeted them would have been comical were it not for the appearance of the involved parties. A broad, bearded man in Warden armor was surveying a clumsy battlefield, shouting at the combatants as they fumbled with their weapons in an attempt to defend themselves.

Brill had no way of knowing which group of men Blackwall was supporting, so she bade her party to merely observe. They watched as the sickly, scrawny farmers scrapped amateurishly with other sickly, scrawny farmers, both groups fighting with a desperation driven by hunger and a need for safe harbor. Just as Brill concluded that neither side would get the upper hand, a new wave of men joined the fray, surprising both Blackwall and the combatants. 

Blackwall took up his sword and shield, joining the fight. He was a beast on the field, though he had no cause to be so. The warden ended the battle in minutes, cutting men down two and three at a time as he danced wickedly among his foes. When the last man fell, he wiped the blood from his blade onto the shirt of one of the fallen and sheathed it. He ordered his men to form up with a gruff shout, and proceeded to berate them for their terrible performance. 

When he dismissed the men, Brill approached him cautiously. 

“Blackwall? Warden Blackwall?” she called with what she hoped was a voice of authority. He turned toward her, a bit jumpy for a man so gruff. He stalked over to her, looking unfriendly. 

“How do you know my name?” he demanded, stopping just short of colliding into her. “Who sent you?”

Behind her, Solas, Cassandra, and Varric tensed and drew their weapons as Brill stepped back, putting her hands up to show him she had no ill-intent. Blackwall, noting the menacing faces at Brill’s back, took a step backward and mirrored her gesture. 

Satisfied that he meant her no harm, Brill answered, “I’m with the Inquisition. We have been trying to get into contact with the Grey Wardens, but they seem to have gone missing. You are the only warden we’ve been able to locate.”

A look of surprise flashed across Blackwall’s face for an instant, so quick that Brill wondered if she’d seen it at all. “Well, wardens do that, don’t they. What does this have to do with me?” he looked impatient, as if they were keeping him from a very important appointment. 

“I have agents in Haven who wish to speak with you. We need to find them.”

He raised a bushy eyebrow at Brill, considering her statement. “Even if I were so inclined, the people here need me. I’m teaching the local farmers basic combat to help them defend their farms,” he paused, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. “I can’t leave until I know they can defend themselves.”

Brill smiled at him. “That’s a noble goal, though a lot for one man. What if I sent some of the Inquisition’s troops to the area? Set up some training grounds near our outposts.” She looked to Cassandra, who nodded her agreement. Brill turned back to Blackwall. “The farmers receive training, my men get some practice, and you can travel to Haven knowing that the Hinterlands are secure.”

Blackwall blinked at her a few times. “I, uh... Yes, I could accept that. I have some things to finish up here, but when I’m through, I’ll make my way to Haven,” he made a move to go, but then turned back to Brill. “What did you say your name was?”

She stepped toward her with her hand out. “Brill Lavellan. Thank you for joining us, Warden Blackwall.” 

He took her hand and gave it a solid shake, “Yeah,” he gave her a nod, and walked away. 

* * *

“Did anyone else get a weird vibe from that warden?” Varric asked as they ate their lunch back at camp. “I’ve known some wardens, and something about him just seemed... off. In my experience, wardens with weird vibes are bad news.”

Brill shrugged, still annoyed at how long it had taken them to find the man. “He’s Leliana’s problem now. I don’t want to spend another minute thinking about the Wardens. She can figure it out, if there is anything to figure out.” She finished the last of her stew. 

“Finish up, everyone. I’d like to be in Redcliffe by nightfall.”

* * *

It was nightfall. Brill was not in Redcliffe. 

“What _must_ we do to catch a break?” She shouted, kicking the red lyrium deposit again with her foot. Infuriated by the lack of destruction, she sent out a powerful pulse from her barrier and shattered the creepy red column. “ _Shemlen_ sacrifice, maybe?”

“Frosty, I-”

“No, Varric. I do not wish to hear it,” she glared at him, “please do not try to justify walking away from this. Do _not_ regale me with endless options, and then refuse to offer an opinion,” she looked at him pointedly, “as you do.”

Varric looked offended and backed away slowly, hands up in a mockery of her response to Blackwall’s aggression earlier that day. “No worries, _Herald_. I’ll just be over there so you won’t be bothered.” 

He walked away, looking back and shaking his head in exaggerated disgust every few steps. Brill stuck her tongue out at him childishly. He responded with a one-fingered salute behind his back. Enraged, she picked up a nearby stone and pitched it at his back. It fell short, striking his ankle. Varric spun around, cursing her as he stampeded in her direction, his intention to beat her senseless painted viciously upon his face. She readied herself for impact, not caring in the slightest that he would absolutely thrash her when they met. They crash landed in the dirt in a jumble of elbows and fists, both grappling for the upper hand. 

Cassandra and Solas had been checking out a nearby cavern for more signs of red lyrium, and must have heard the fighting. Brill heard them shouting faintly as she connected her elbow with Varric’s nose. He loosened his grip on her hair. She pulled free and turned the tables on him, grabbing his ponytail and yanking hard as he kneed her in the ribs until she was sure he’d broken one. She let go of his hair so she could twist away, granting her ribs a blessed reprieve, earning herself a solid punch just under her left shoulder blade in the process. She managed to get behind him, trying to put him in a headlock, but he reversed it and twisted her arm behind her back. She flung herself backwards, the crown of her head smashing into his cheekbone. Varric reeled, but kept hold of her arm, twisting it higher up until she was immobilized, afraid she might break it if she tried to escape. 

Varric dropped her arm abruptly, and she was pulled several feet through the dirt by her ankles. She scrambled to her feet, eyes darting, looking for her target. Spotting Varric mirroring her actions, she took a step toward him and was knocked prone to the ground, a lithe, definitely male body pinning her to the dirt. She attempted for a moment to free herself, but all four of her limbs were hopelessly pinned beneath his. 

“ _Dianas_!” he hissed in her ear. “Stop this!”

She froze, suddenly aware of a distinct hardness pressed against her as they lay together tense and panting. Still half-delirious with bloodlust, she rolled her hips upward, craving friction between them. 

“ _Fenedhis_!” Solas rasped sharply. He leapt off of her, stalking away into the darkness without another word. 

* * *

Varric and Brill sat next to each other on a makeshift bench by their fire in silence. 

“I’m waiting,” the Seeker growled. 

Neither Varric nor Brill offered a reply. 

Cassandra threw up her hands. “Fine. Don’t tell me. Honestly, I care little. But know this: one more incident, and I do mean one, I will leave. I will take Solas with me, and we will return to Haven without you. The two of you can wrestle all the way to Redcliffe for all that I care. The Inquisition is stuck with _you_ , Herald; I can and gladly will throw Varric out without a second thought.” She spun on her heel and walked to her tent, calling over her shoulder as she went, “The two of you can share a tent tonight. Or sleep on the ground like the animals you are.” She disappeared through the tent flap. 

The battered adversaries sat in silence for a while, staring at the dancing flames before them. The quiet was awkward and tense, both of them wanting to say something but failing to start. 

Brill chuckled, startling Varric. She looked at him when he jumped, and started laughing in earnest, quietly at first, then louder as Varric joined in. Soon the two of them were cackling like loons, tears leaking from their eyes as they leaned against each other’s shoulders, weakened by their mirth. 

As the laughter began to die off, Varric, between involuntary chuckles, asked, “What’s so funny?”

This sent Brill into another fit, laughing too hard to answer for several seconds. When she recovered, she answered, “I keep imagining the two of us-” another giggle forced her to pause, “literally wrestling our way up Redcliffe Road, through the front gates-” she lost it again, Varric joining in, “asking to speak with the Grand Enchanter!” 

When the laughter died down for good, Varric let out a sigh. “We have some apologies to make, Frosty.” Brill cringed when she recalled what she had done to Solas.

“Yes, we do,” she agreed, tucking a few stray wild bits safely away. 

* * *

“I suppose Solas is as finished with your buffoonery as I,” Cassandra commented as they rode north on Redcliffe Road, “would it have killed him to invite me along?” Solas and his horse had been gone from camp when they woke up that morning. 

Varric laughed. They had made amends with Cassandra, cooking her an extravagant breakfast that the three of them choked down over apologies, their faces screwed up in an exaggerated reaction to the badly cooked meal. 

“I will admit that Solas and I watched your ridiculous fight for a bit instead of immediately breaking it up,” Cassandra had confessed as she chewed something that should not have been chewy, “it was amusing until we feared your arm would be broken.” She looked at Brill with disapproval. “Your hand-to-hand combat is sloppy.”

Brill had smiled at Cassandra and agreed. What she and Varric had been doing could only be classified as brawling. 

“But please, Lavellan. Behavior such as that is... unbecoming. We cannot have the Herald of Andraste earning a reputation as a common squabbler.” Cassandra had turned serious, and Brill nodded solemnly in agreement. 

“Josephine would have a fit.” Brill winked at Varric, and the three of them had laughed together as they packed up their camp in preparation for the trip to Redcliffe. 

Presently, as Varric and Cassandra discussed Solas’s probable destinations, Brill felt guilty. Solas had made it quite clear that he was uncomfortable with the attraction between them, and she had crossed a boundary last night. It didn’t surprise her that he’d gone. She did hope that he was safe, and that he would talk to her again once his anger dissipated. She changed the subject.

“I would like to know where the red lyrium came from,” Brill said, “Varric, you only took a small piece when you were in Kirkwall. Why are there veins popping up all over the surface?”

Varric looked worried. “I wish I knew. Anyway, we should send a bird to Nightingale, have her send some of her scouts to look into the operation here in the Hinterlands. That stuff is evil. If those bandits are trafficking it...” he trailed off, lost in thought. 

Brill sighed heavily, “That would be bad.”

* * *

To Brill's relief, Solas met them just south of the gate, his expression grim. “A rift has opened at the gate. It is different from the other rifts we have encountered thus far.” Brill couldn’t help but notice, with another pang of guilt, that he addressed Cassandra instead of her. 

“Different how?” Cassandra asked. 

“It is... difficult to describe.” Solas was uncharacteristically uneasy. 

“Try.”

He looked at Cassandra with irritation. “Time appears to be warped, for lack of a better word, in pockets surrounding the rift. I cannot explain further.”

Brill nudged her horse into motion. “Let’s close the rift. We will figure out the rest afterward.”

Solas was right. As they fought the demons that were clamoring from the rift, time seemed to shift around them. Sometimes the demons surrounding them seemed to move at double the speed, whilst other times they were moving in slow motion. It was jarring, and made timing attacks that much more difficult. 

While the demons themselves were no more challenging than those they had faced at other rifts, closing it took twice as long when accounting for the warps in time that they were experiencing. The four of them were exhausted when the battle was over, panting and looking at each other in disbelief. 

“That was -” Brill started.

“Weird shit,” finished Varric with a shudder. “I’m tired of weird shit. Why is there always weird shit?”

“I don’t know,” Brill replied, still catching her breath, “but we had better find the Grand Enchanter and ask her what’s going on here.”

* * *

They entered the Gull and Lantern, a very busy inn at the heart of Redcliffe Village. They’d been directed to the inn by an elven mage near the gates, who had seemed to think they were there to speak with a magister from Tevinter. 

“Who is Magister Alexius?” Brill had asked, “I wish to speak with Grand Enchanter Fiona.”

“And that you shall,” he had replied, “while you wait for Magister Alexius.”

Brill surveyed him with annoyance, “That is unhelpful. But thank you. We will find the inn.”

The inn was packed, as was the village, with mages. Fiona greeted them as they made their way past the bar into the dining area. 

“Welcome, Inquisition. What has brought you here?”

Brill looked to her companions with confusion, finding them similarly afflicted. Varric, eyebrows merged with his hairline, mouthed the words “weird shit,” to her before she turned back to the Grand Enchanter. 

“You invited us. When we met in Val Royeaux.” 

What followed was an exchange from which both parties emerged more confused than when they’d entered. Fiona claimed to have last been in Val Royeaux before the explosion at the Conclave. Brill insisted that she had been there in the past month. Both were convinced that the other was mistaken, if not insane. Regardless, Fiona’s final admission shocked Brill to near speechlessness. 

“You’ve pledged yourselves to the _Imperium_ ?” Even Brill, a fledgling in Thedas’s politics, knew of _shemlen_ Tevinter. The only nation in Thedas governed by mages. The nation built upon and still dependent on slavery. 

“Andraste’s _ass_. Of all the things you could have done,” Varric addressed Fiona with derision, “I can’t think of a worse option.”

Fiona was unapologetic, and refused to speak to them further without her Magister present. 

_She has already resigned herself to slavery_ , Brill thought. _She was an impetus of the Mage Rebellion. How bad must the Chantry Circles have been, to prefer slavery over them?_

Brill and her party took a seat at a tiny table at the back of the inn, waiting for the arrival of Magister Alexius. 

“Does anyone know of this magister?” she asked her friends. None of them did. _Well, shit._

Magister Alexius entered the room with a small envoy and stopped to speak with Fiona before approaching the Inquisition. Fiona guided the magister to their table, and the party stood for introductions. 

Fiona graciously made them. “Inquisition, may I present to you Magister Gereon Alexuis of Tevinter,” she said this with an extravagant bow, backing away so that her master could speak uninterrupted. 

The magister began, “You are the survivor of the Conclave explosion? The knife-ear who walked the Fade and returned unscathed?” His voice was patronizing. 

Brill stiffened at the slur, but steeled herself, “I am she, yes. I am in need of mages to close the Breach. Shall we commence negotiations?”

Alexius laughed, “Straight to business, are we? How very droll.” Uninvited, he took a seat at their tiny table, gesturing magnanimously for her to sit across from him. “As you imply, sealing the Breach is a noble goal which must be accomplished immediately,” he smiled with thinly veiled condescension. “Tell me, how many mages do you anticipate you will need for this undertaking?”

Brill, fighting every instinct screaming at her to blast the _shemlen_ into dust, smiled sweetly as she sat. “All of them, of course.” 

The magister leaned back dramatically, looking to his envoy to share in his mirth, “All of them! Ambitious!” He then turned his attention to a loose thread at his wrist. “And what do you offer in exchange?” His eyes flicked up to hers as he finished the question, holding her gaze. 

“I’d rather hoped that you would recognize the Inquisition’s current need as beneficial to your own,” she said, keeping her voice light, “as it will be difficult to accomplish much should the Veil shatter entirely.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Do you mean to imply that I should lend you my mages free of charge?” 

“It does seem the best option.”

Alexius scoffed at her, “For the Inquisition, perhaps.” He glanced around the room and snapped at a young _shemlen_ , indicating the need for writing tools. “No. We will need to neg-” His words cut off as he suddenly jumped out of his chair. The young man had just fallen into Brill’s lap, surreptitiously slipping a scrap of paper into her hand. 

“Felix! You are ill!” The magister had dropped all pretense, his attention solely focused on Felix. “We must get you your medication.”

Standing with a look of embarrassment, Felix replied, “I am fine, Father. You can continue with your meeting.”

“Absolutely not!” Alexis turned to Brill, “I do apologize, Inquisition. We will have to negotiate another time. I will send word when I am prepared to meet with you.” With that, the Tevinters vacated the inn, Fiona trailing behind them. 

* * *

Cassandra paid the innkeeper for a room, and the party retired to their rental to speak privately. 

“He slipped me a note,” Brill informed them, showing them the folded scrap of paper Felix had given her. 

“Well, don’t leave us hanging. What does it say?” Varric asked with impatience. 

Brill rolled her eyes at him, “I don’t know, Varric. I haven’t read it.” She waved it in the air to show him it was still folded neatly. 

Cassandra snatched it out of Brill’s hand and read the note out loud, “Come to the Chantry. You are in danger.”

“Lucky us,” Varric shrugged resignedly, “more weird shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I was planning this chapter, I had no idea that Brill and Varric were going to have a literal fist fight. It just happened. Don't worry, they still love each other. Is it even true friendship if you don't beat the snot out of each other every now and then? 
> 
> Next chapter will be posted on Saturday. Thank you for reading!
> 
> Translations:
> 
> _Dianas!_ \- Stop!  
>  _Fenedhis!_ \- Fuck!


	13. Provocateur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan discovers what's really going on in Redcliffe.
> 
> * * *
> 
> _He jerked away. “You wish to set things right before you proceed with this,” he struggled for words, “this suicide mission? I will-”_
> 
> _Brill cut him off, “It is not a suicide mission. Our plans are solid, if the tunnel is still accessible. If not, we will regroup. You know I would not ask anyone to follow me into a slaughter.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW at the end of the chapter. See the end notes for trigger warnings!

They approached the Chantry with trepidation, aware that the note could be leading them to a trap. As they got closer, the sinister sounds of an open rift drifted to their ears. 

“There is a rift in the Chantry!” Brill yelled unnecessarily. The group dashed up the steps and threw open the doors. Sure enough, a massive rift tainted by warps in time hovered in the center of the sanctuary, demons climbing through and flooding the church. Slain demons littered the wooden floor, presumed victims of the mage at the center of the chaos. 

The group joined the fight, and Brill closed the rift as quickly as possible. Going by the body count, it appeared that the mage had been here battling an endless stream of demons for quite some time. He was flagging. 

When the last demon fell, the mage spun dramatically to look at Brill, his eyes intense, but friendly. “Fascinating!” he said, “how does that work, exactly? I’ll bet you don’t even know, do you?” He strutted around her as spoke, appraising her. “A Ferelden mage, of all things, and an elf, to boot! Oh, Andraste _does_ have a sense of humor, eh, my dear?”

Brill searched his words for derision. Finding none, she asked, “Who are you?”

“Ah yes, I did get ahead of myself.” He gave her a superfluous bow, and continued, “I am Dorian of House Pavus, most recently of Minrathous.” 

“Maker, another Tevinter? What is going on here?” Cassandra did not attempt to hide her exasperation. Brill gestured for her to relax. As off-putting as Magister Alexius had been, this Tevinter was the opposite. He was charming, if a bit over-the-top. 

Brill mimicked his bow, “I am Brill of Clan Lavellan, most recently of the Free Marches.” She extended her hand. 

Dorian accepted the handshake, smiling with good humor at her mockery of his introduction. He offered Brill his elbow and surveyed the gore-strewn sanctuary with distaste, “Shall we find someplace less revolting to get to know one another?” 

* * *

“Time magic. You and Alexius created time magic?” Brill looked around at the group, incredulous.

Solas was listening with rapt attention as Dorian told them of Alexius’s plans. “This is fascinating, if true. Also dangerous.” 

Varric and Cassandra were silent. They sat next to each other on the edge of the bed, arms crossed, expressions skeptical. The topic was fascinating only to mages, evidently. 

Brill continued her interrogation. “And he’s joined a cult. The Venatori. Who seek to... what? Kill me? Imprison me? Study the mark on my hand?”

Dorian shook his head apologetically. “That I don’t know, I’m afraid. What I can tell you is that when you waltz into Redcliffe Castle, he will take you, whatever his purpose. The Arl and his staff have been removed. The entire castle is overflowing with Venatori. You’ll stand no chance against them.” He smirked at her. “No offense, of course.” 

“We’re never going to seal the Breach,” Varric groaned. 

Brill thought about their options. Storming the castle with a team of five was out of the question. She could send a raven to Leliana, asking for support... no. She dismissed the idea. Sending a bird risked interception of the message, which could reveal what they knew of the Venatori. Alexius believed he had the upper hand, and it was best to let him think he still did. 

“I’ll have to return to Haven. Solas will return with me. We will meet with Leliana and Cullen, devise a plan to deal with Alexius, then return here as quickly as possible. Cassandra and Varric, the two of you can hole up here with Dorian. Keep an ear open for further information. We’ll come up with some kind of code to use in the event that you need to send word.” Everyone nodded in agreement, having come to the same conclusions on their own. Everyone but Solas. 

“Herald. A word, if I may.” He looked at the others with expectation. Cassandra rolled her eyes, but she left the room, followed by Dorian and Varric, who glanced back at Brill in question. She nodded at him to go ahead. 

Brill braced herself. She had been hoping to have this conversation on the road. She straightened her spine, opened her mouth to apologize - 

“I will absolutely not be returning to Haven with you.” His words were fractured ice, and he did not meet her eyes. 

Brill was caught off guard. “You will. You and I travel the lightest, our horses are the fastest. It must be us. This is time sensitive.”

Solas turned toward her. The intensity in his eyes was unsettling. “I will _not_ be alone with you.” He held himself rigidly, as he often did when the two of them were alone together. Brill was again overwhelmed with guilt over her actions and, to her dismay, her voice shook with nerves when she tried another appeal. 

“I am sorry. I know I was out of line. I don’t have an excuse, but I am sorry. I will not push you again.” The words tumbled out of her faster and faster as she tried to finish before he could interrupt with another refusal. 

He stepped toward her, forcing her to take a step back. He took another prowling step as he backed her into a corner. They stopped when the back of her legs hit the edge of the bed. His voice was low and when he spoke again. 

“I thought you more than some lewd _dahn’direlan_. A temptress, perhaps, but not a whore. It seems I was incorrect.” He sneered at her in disgust. 

Brill was nose to nose with him in an instant, all guilt forgotten; rage took over. “So I am a whore, now? Am I to understand that you have been completely uninterested? I think not.” She poked him in the chest and snarled. “ _You_ are not so innocent, flat-ear.” 

Face flushing crimson, Solas leaned over her, which forced her to sit on the bed. She kicked him in the shin. He retreated a few steps with a scowl on his face as he spat, “ _I_ have controlled my baser urges at every opportunity. _You_ , on the other hand _-_ ”

“I will not sit here and be insulted. I was sorry, I _am_ sorry for my behavior last night, but _you_ are now out of line. Your need to be in control is out of line!” Brill was shouting now, not caring who heard, “ _Pala adahl’en_!” 

He moved toward her again, rage contorting his face. Brill grabbed a bookend off of the end table and threw it at him. He ducked, and it hit the wall behind him just as Varric barged through the door.

“What in Maker’s _balls_ are you two doing?” His sudden appearance snapped both enraged elves out of the fight. Solas, true to form, shoved past Varric and stormed out of the room. Brill glared at Varric, daring him to say the wrong thing. Cassandra and Dorian peeked their heads around the door frame, wearing identical expressions of concern. 

“Want to talk about it?” Varric asked kindly.

Brill shook her head. “No. Change of plans. The _apostate_ will stay here with you and Cassandra. Dorian, you are coming with me to Haven. You can borrow one of our horses. We leave now.”

* * *

They arrived in Haven at midnight a day and a half later, horses exhausted and Horsemaster Dennet spluttering rebukes. Brill ignored the old _shemlen_ and dragged Dorian straight to the Chantry, sending messengers to rouse Leliana and Cullen from their beds. In her haste to leave Redcliffe Village, she had neglected to send a bird announcing her arrival, and the two advisors showed up in the war room alarmed and disheveled, still in their bedclothes. 

“Herald, what are you doing here?”

“Where is Cassandra?”

“Who is this man?”

“Is everything alright?

They bombarded her with questions without providing her an opening to answer, continuing until she held up a hand to stop them. Once they quieted, Brill and Dorian quickly filled them in on the events in Redcliffe. Leliana absorbed the information with cool serenity, tapping a finger on her chin as she thought. Cullen, however, was incensed. 

“ _Why_ would we send you back to Redcliffe? You’ve just told us that there is an evil cult made up of blood mages from _Tevinter_ , of all places. You are their target, and you wish to return? Are you absolutely mad?” He paced the floor, and Brill worried that he might start tearing his own hair out. “We need to pull our forces from the region, and we need to do it now. If what you say is true, these ‘Venatori’ will stop at nothing to reach you.” 

Brill, working hard to control her frayed emotions, replied, “Now that we know what’s happening in Redcliffe, what’s happened to the mages, we cannot turn our backs. The magister is playing with dangerous magic. There is no telling what will happen if we allow him to continue with his plans.” She glanced at Dorian, who nodded emphatically. “We must find a way to storm the castle-”

Cullen slammed his hands down on the war table. “Impossible. Redcliffe Castle is one of the most defensible fortresses in Ferelden. If you go there, you’ll die. I cannot allow it. No, we must forget the mages, forget this Alexius. Enlist the templars. It is the only way.”

“It is not the only way.” Leliana said. Until that point, she hadn’t offered her opinion on the situation at all. Brill, Cullen, and Dorian turned their attention to her, waiting for an explanation. She stood there, still thinking. Cullen broke first.

“Do you care to explain, Leliana? Because I fail to see how we have options.” 

Leliana cast her eyes in his general direction, her gaze unfocused as she recalled the past, “There is a tunnel that leads into the castle dungeons. The Hero of Ferelden and I used it during the Blight ten years ago to deal with an incident in Redcliffe at the time. It may still be there.” Brill nodded eagerly, full of questions, when Cullen spoke up. Again. 

“How is this relevant? We can’t sneak an entire army through a tunnel. Assuming Alexius hasn’t already caved it in.”

Leliana’s eyes were shining with excitement as she settled on her plan. “That’s just it, Cullen. The only people in the world who know about that tunnel are the Arl of Redcliffe and five others. I find it highly unlikely that this cult would have uncovered such a well-kept secret in so little time.” Satisfied that she had convinced everyone, she continued. 

“I will send the location of the tunnel entrance to my most discreet scouts stationed near Redcliffe. They can confirm that the tunnel is accessible and make preparations. In the meantime, we will choose which soldiers will mount the assault through the tunnels. We should include as many templars as possible, since we will be encountering mages.”

Brill was impressed. “So, my team and I will lead the charge through the tunnels, and we will wipe them out from the inside. I love it.”

Leliana shook her head. “No, Herald. You will not be going with our soldiers. I know the layout. I will lead them.”

Cullen relaxed immediately. “Thank the Maker.” 

“You, Herald,” Leliana paused to smile apologetically at Cullen, “will walk right through the front door.”

* * *

By the time they had worked out the basic details and contingency plans for the assault on Redcliffe Castle, it was past two in the morning. Leliana and Dorian left to find their beds after Brill asked an attendant to let Dorian into her cabin. She stayed behind to speak with Cullen, who was bracing himself over the table and poring through their plans in search of errors or things they might have overlooked. 

“Cullen?” she said tentatively. He jerked upright when she spoke and looked surprised to see her still sitting across from him. 

“Are we on speaking terms again? I had not heard.” Cullen turned his attention back to their notes. 

Brill got up and stood next to Cullen. She noted that, for the first time since the night after she’d returned from the Hinterlands, she felt comfortable with him. Despite his terrible mood. “Cullen, I would like to talk. Explain some things, if I could.” She reached out and gently touched his elbow, hoping to soften him, calm him down, just a little.

He jerked away. “You wish to set things right before you proceed with this,” he struggled for words, “this suicide mission? I will-”

Brill cut him off, “It is not a suicide mission. Our plans are solid, if the tunnel is still accessible. If not, we will regroup. You know I would not ask anyone to follow me into a slaughter.”

He scoffed. “ _You_ are not leading them. Leliana is. Leliana absolutely would lead our men to slaughter if it achieved her goals.” Cullen stood from the table and turned to face her. “ _You_ are walking straight into the lion’s den. You won’t know whether or not our troops have successfully infiltrated the castle when you enter. I do not sign off on orders that rely upon uncertainties. I cannot allow this.” He searched her face, pleading with her to agree. 

“You're not the one making the decision, Cullen,” she said softly. “I am. I am the Herald. This is my decision.”

Cullen’s jaw clenched. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, breathing purposefully in and out. He stood like that for several moments, and Brill began to worry that he was ill. 

“Cullen, are you-” 

Her voice startled him out of his meditation. His eyes flew open and his face twisted with rage. He swept his arm across the table, knocking books and papers and writing utensils all over the room. Brill backed away from him with her heart in her throat. He rounded on her, striding toward her with a shaky finger pointed to her chest. 

“I will _not_ allow it!” Brill backed into the wall, and he stopped short several feet away. He dropped his hand, his shoulders heaving, “You are a mage, of course you feel you must help your kind, but they are _not_ more important than you! The Inquisition!”

Brill’s hearing dimmed and heat spread across her chest. “What a ridiculous thing to say. This has nothing to do with them being _my kind_. I do not care about the conflict between mages and templars,” she struggled to keep her voice steady; she did not wish to enrage him further, “I care only for closing the Breach. I cannot help that a more pressing matter must be dealt with first!”

Cullen edged closer to her with slow, deliberate steps. His breathing had calmed, but the muscle in his jaw was repeatedly contracting. His voice was quiet when he spoke. “Ah, but you do prefer mages to templars, don’t you?” He smiled maliciously and halted his approach less than a foot away “I think your preference is quite clear, since you’ve been fucking that elven apostate.”

She saw red. Brill launched herself at him, landing several punches before he caught her and shoved her back against the wall. Cullen held her wrists over her head with one hand, breathing forcefully through his nose as she struggled to free herself. Brill aimed a kick at his groin, but he dodged and her foot connected with his thigh instead. Cullen caught her ankle, closed the gap between them and plastered her body between his and the wall, her captured leg held tightly between his elbow and his hip. 

His mouth crashed onto Brill’s, catching her off guard. She tried to bite him, managing only to scrape her teeth upon his, and she felt a few wild bits escape. Cullen moved against her, and Brill shifted her weight to her pinned leg, wrapping her free one around his waist. Her intention was to shimmy upward, away from his hungry mouth, to gain height and command of the situation. But her wild bits were taking advantage of her distraction, and she could feel him straining between them, grinding against her with need, begging her and wanting her and then the poorly-guarded bits exploded out of their prison.

She matched his hunger, lips and teeth gnashing against his mouth, his jaw, his neck. Cullen jerked his hips reflexively with a sharp groan, relaxing his grip on her wrists just enough for her to escape. Arms free, she dragged one hand roughly through his hair as the other tried in vain to rip his nightshirt from his chest. Her thighs clutched at his waist and Cullen shifted to support her, assaulting her backside with one hand and fumbling at the clasps of her tunic with the other. 

They struggled in tandem; both were overcome with need and unable to achieve the closeness they craved. With a frustrated groan, Cullen lowered Brill to her feet. They tore frantically at each other’s clothing; panting, stroking, tasting, focused only on their immediate desire for contact. The pair battled for control, each undermining the other’s efforts. Cullen won; he removed Brill’s tunic and tossed it to the floor below. He held her back for a moment to admire her bare torso.

She gasped in surprise when he abruptly pushed her away toward the wall. Cullen removed his nightshirt as she righted herself, then grabbed her by the waistband, intent on extricating her from her breeches with brute force. He yanked them down past her knees, her smalls going with them, and he had her pressed against the wall once more, one hand exploring the heat he’d laid bare. 

Brill groaned as Cullen rutted fervently against her hip. His smalls were the only thing separating them as he devoured her neck, her breasts, her body with his mouth. Her fingers scrambled at his waist, desperate to remove the final barrier between them. Cullen slowed his mindless assault just long enough to assist. His smalls removed, they both hesitated for an instant. Their eyes finally met, asking and answering questions without a word. 

They gasped with relief when they fit themselves together. Brill was pinned between Cullen and the wall, her thighs gripping his waist, ankles crossed at the base of his spine, hands grasping at his torso for purchase. Cullen plunged recklessly toward release, palms pressed against the wall behind her, his face buried in the crook of her neck. 

Panting, Brill reached the threshold. His pace quickened and Cullen raised his head to watch her strain against him as the spasms convulsed through her. He growled, and his movements became erratic and uncontrolled as he followed her over the edge.

The whole affair was over in minutes, both of them left gasping for air, boneless, exhausted, sated. They held each other as they recovered, the only sounds in the room their hitching breaths. 

Cullen broke their embrace. He gently let Brill down to her feet and picked up his nightshirt, putting it on without meeting her eyes. He handed Brill her discarded clothing and returned to the war table. 

Brill studied him as she dressed. When she was finished, she approached him with quiet, hesitant steps. 

"Cullen?" she asked softly, touching his arm. He flinched away from her. 

"Leave me, please." His voice was wavering, strained. 

Brill blanched at his rebuff, "Cullen, I-" 

"I am asking you to leave. Please." He finally looked at her, and the remorse she saw there was unmistakable. 

She left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Slight dubcon
> 
> * * *
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading. Next chapter will drop on Saturday!
> 
> Translations:  
>  _dahn’direlan_ \- idiot  
>  _Pala adahl’en_ \- Go fuck a forest


	14. Malefactor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisition prepares for its assault on Redcliffe Castle. Lavellan mopes around in Haven and Redcliffe.
> 
> * * *
> 
> _Brill stood up from the bed and crossed her arms over her chest. “What exactly are you trying to tell me, Cassandra? I am not in the mood to -”_
> 
> _“He is not well, Herald. Surely you could see that.” Cassandra’s voice dropped low as she spoke. “‘Do not disturb him’. That is what I asked. Please do not disturb him again.” She didn’t wait for a response; she turned on her heel and walked out the door. Brill was left standing by the bed, dumbfounded._

Leliana and Brill met outside of the war room door early the next morning. They jockeyed for who would enter first and stopped when it was clear that neither of them would step back and allow the other through. Leliana took the opportunity to give Brill a pointed look. 

“The Chantry walls are thin, Herald,” she said. Brill froze, and Leiliana strode through the door. Brill stood rooted at the threshold, cheeks hot with embarrassment. She had spent her meager time in bed tossing and turning, reliving the night’s encounter with equal parts excitement and dread. Her heart rate ticked up a notch; she felt dizzy and a bit sick as she thought about facing Cullen in the war room. 

“How gallant of you to wait for yours truly!” a cheerful voice called out from the Chantry doors. Brill turned towards Dorian, happy for the distraction. How he could manage to be so chipper and put together was beyond her. They’d each had about six hours of sleep in the past two days. Brill was flagging, but Dorian appeared to be ready for anything. 

“Shall we commence with our master planning?” Dorian asked with a broad smile as he approached her. Brill nodded, and he gestured for her to enter the room, “Heralds first!”

The first thing that Brill noticed when she entered was Cullen’s appearance. He had clearly not slept either; his hair was a mess and there were dark circles under his eyes. He addressed her, staring blankly over her shoulder. 

“Herald.”

“Good morning, Commander,” she replied quickly, her stomach twisting as she silently pleaded with him to meet her eyes. He did not. Brill glanced around the room and caught Leliana studying the two of them with an air of disapproval. The room fell silent. 

“Well, it’s certainly awkward in here, isn’t it?” Dorian commented. He clapped his hands together, “Let’s move past it, shall we, and get down to business.”

It took them several hours to work out every detail. Cullen refused to call it done until every last possibility was examined and prepared for. His demeanor was a far cry from what it had been during their last session. He was confident while planning, but his speech was measured and quiet. He did not look at Brill. 

Cullen assigned troops to follow Leliana and Dorian through the tunnel, the vanguard consisting of templars. A detachment of Leliana’s troops was selected to signal when Brill entered the castle, then take up as the rearguard at the tunnel entrance. Requisitions for lyrium were filled out and sent. Dorian relayed all he knew of Alexius so that Leliana’s scouts could leave appropriate supplies in the tunnel and the infiltrators would be prepared for the potential threats they would face.

Brill and Dorian had orders to spend the remainder of the day resting in Haven. Cullen’s forces would muster and leave for the Hinterlands that afternoon, with Brill, Dorian, and Leliana following in the morning. Every contingency worked out, the meeting ended. 

Dorian left immediately to find some lunch and his bed. Leliana, Cullen, and Brill were left in the war room. Leliana stared daggers at Brill. Cullen kept his eyes lowered, hands fidgeting with nothing. Brill’s gaze darted between Cullen to Leliana as she shifted her weight from foot to foot. Brill fought the urge to flee the room. She needed to speak with Cullen. She needed Leliana to leave. 

Leliana did not leave. “This is unacceptable,” Her eyes remained pinned on Brill, “Cullen, you are the Commander of the Inquisition’s army. You know well that a dalliance with the Herald is unwise. Some would call it inappropriate, at best.” Brill watched helplessly as Cullen shrank beneath Leliana’s chastisement. Leliana continued: 

“Herald, I must speak with Cullen privately. You should eat and then sleep. In that order.” Leliana turned away from her, and Brill was dismissed. 

* * *

She found Dorian at the meal tent and joined him after she grabbed her ration. As she sat down, he raised an eyebrow at her. 

“So. You and the tormented templar, “ he trailed off with an expectant look on his face. Brill dropped her eyes to her plate and gathered some food on a fork. 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” She chewed her food slowly. 

Dorian slumped back with a huff. “Oh boo. What else will we talk about, then?” He studied her as she ate, and she squirmed a bit, uncomfortable under his scrutiny. Brill rolled her head on her shoulders to work out some kinks and gave Dorian a faltering smile.

“I would like to know how you manage to look so good after the past couple of days we’ve had.” 

Either he took pity on her or the distraction worked. Dorian sat up straighter and tilted his head back, running his fingers along his perfectly styled hair. “I’m afraid I will be unable to help with that. The vision you see before you is the result of years of careful Tevinter breeding,” he winked at her, “it cannot be replicated.”

Brill stared at him for a moment and then barked a laugh. “You do think highly of yourself, don’t you?” She asked. 

He smirked. “As one should! If _you_ don’t love your best qualities, who will?” 

Brill contemplated that as she chewed. “That’s actually quite astute. Thank you, Dorian.”

Dorian flashed her another grin and stood. “Of course. Appearances aside, I am utterly exhausted. If you need me, I shall be snuggled up in my bed until dawn. Do be sure to find your own rest.” He left Brill alone with her chafing thoughts. Once she finished her meal, she followed him, hoping for empty dreams. 

* * *

It took the three of them two and a half days to reach Redcliffe. They caught up with the Inquisition forces near dusk on their first day and decided to make camp with the group. They pulled ahead the next morning. Leliana wanted to meet with her scouts before the army arrived to make sure that all preparations for the assault were complete, so they made haste. 

When they arrived at the Gull and Lantern, Leliana absconded with Cassandra and Brill was left looking after them, Varric and Dorian oblivious to her worry. Varric elbowed her ribs.

“Chuckles has been talking with the mages. They’re scared, Frosty.” He gave her a meaningful look. “You should probably check in with him, get a feel for what we can expect.”

She furrowed her brows. “That’s not exactly relevant, right now. I don’t need to talk to the mages.” Her attention was now on Dorian, who, evidently bored with the conversation, had wandered off to join a group of ladies in the corner of the room. 

Varric grabbed her elbow. “Look, I have no idea what happened with you two, but the elf has been a complete _ass_ since you left. Can you talk to him?”

Brill sighed. She contemplated beginning the assault on Redcliffe Castle at that very moment. She would leave the inn and walk straight to the castle and storm the doors. Maybe the Venatori would kill her on the spot and she would no longer have to deal with all of the pointless messes she found herself in. 

“Where is he?” she asked Varric, resigned. 

She walked slowly to the garden Varric pointed her to. Brill didn’t know how to feel; should she be angry, ashamed, or apologetic? She only felt apathy, which she thought could be due to her exhaustion. She had spent the past week traveling, with little time for breaks, but she knew it wasn’t just that she was physically tired. She was tired of fighting with the people she had grown close to. Both Solas and Cullen had called her a whore, and what was her reaction? Having sex with Cullen at his first invitation. Recently, she seemed only capable of digging deeper holes.

Brill abruptly stopped walking. Despite the situation, she had enjoyed herself when she was with Cullen. He obviously had regrets, but that wasn’t her fault. She didn’t love him. She wasn’t going to pester him for more. He was _shemlen_ , for one thing. For another, she had more important things to worry about. Things like closing the Breach. She turned around and headed back to the inn. Solas could come to her if he wanted to sort things out. Brill was tired of fixing things that didn’t matter. 

* * *

“Our forces should arrive sometime late this evening. This will give them time to rest and make camp. They have orders to split up across the region so as not to draw suspicion.” Leliana paused, checking the document in her hands. “Herald, your invitation to Redcliffe Castle asks you to arrive tomorrow. They did not specify a time.”

Cassandra took over, looking at Brill, “This is good for us. It means that we can spend the morning sending our forces through the tunnel a few at a time. Once we have confirmation that they are in position, you, Varric, Solas, and I will enter the castle.”

Brill nodded. “And the rest is in the hands of our troops,” she looked around at the five faces watching her, “I think we are prepared, everyone. Rest up. We should be ready to pay our visit after lunch tomorrow.” 

The meeting broke and Brill sank back on the bed as everyone left the small room. Except for Cassandra. Cassandra closed the door behind everyone and turned around to stare at Brill with a stern look. Brill stared back, waiting. Cassandra huffed a breath. Realizing that Cassandra was not going to leave, Brill sat back up on the edge of the bed and raised her eyebrows. 

“Yes, Cassandra?”

“I recall asking you to leave Cullen alone,” she said coldly. 

Brill felt like she had been smacked. Frissons of anger coiled in the pit of her stomach. 

“I didn’t seek him out.” She didn’t understand why Leliana or Cassandra cared one way or another what two adults chose to do in private. “I fail to see how it’s your business, anyway.”

Cassandra hesitated, and her stern expression was replaced with one of uncertainty. “Perhaps it is not. I -” she paused “He does not need -”

Brill stood up from the bed and crossed her arms over her chest. “What exactly are you trying to tell me, Cassandra? I am not in the mood to -”

“He is not well, Herald. Surely you could see that.” Cassandra’s voice dropped low as she spoke. “‘Do not disturb him’. That is what I asked. Please do not disturb him again.” She didn’t wait for a response; she turned on her heel and walked out the door. Brill was left standing by the bed, dumbfounded.

“ _Fenedhis lasa_!” She paced around the room, too irritated to sit down and relax. Cullen was unwell, and she should have known about it? So she is to blame for this mess, too. Ridiculous. He was the one yelling. He was the one saying ugly things. And he was definitely the one who shoved her up against a wall and kissed her. She didn’t start any of that. He was the aggressor, he was - 

She stopped short, cold realization trickling up her spine. She should have known about it. The Cullen she knew didn’t lose his temper. He didn’t yell and call people names. He hadn’t when she’d attacked him at the cafe in Val Royeaux. Or in the Chantry when she had shamed him in front of all the sisters. 

Something was wrong with Cullen, and she hadn’t seen it. She sat down on the bed, feeling terrible. It was no wonder Cullen had pushed her away afterward. With a groan, she lay down on the bed with her back to the door and curled up into a ball. She did not need this to be happening. She should be focusing on her plan for tomorrow, not torturing herself. Maybe she would just cry for a little bit, and then eat dinner. 

The door behind her opened. 

“ _Vara u’em._ ” Brill said, her voice muffled. “Go away.”

“ _Nuvenan ma son_?” Solas. Of course it was Solas. She might as well take all of her beatings in one night and get them over with. She swiped at her face to clear the tears and sat up to face him. 

“ _Ame son'ala, hahren_.” Her answer was dripping with sarcasm. She wasn’t going to take her beatings lying down. Solas actually rolled his eyes at her. 

“Stop that. We need to talk.” He stood with his hands clasped behind his back. “I should apologize -”

“Yes, you should.” 

He sighed. “Very well. I apologize.” He didn’t say anything more. He just stood there, watching her. Brill stared back at him. The silence grew awkward, but neither of them were going to back down. She waited. Just as she was considering laying back on the bed and ignoring him, he gave up with a loud sigh. 

“Must you always be so stubborn?” 

Brill sniffed. “I could ask you the same question, you know. What did you want to talk about?”

He reached back and closed the door, “I wish to discuss... boundaries.” Solas looked away from her, finally. She groaned. 

“Solas, I have already apologized. It was inappropriate and stupid. I don’t even know what compelled me to do it. It will not happen again.”

He walked over and sat next to her on the bed, taking care to sit as far away from her as possible. “Yes, you said that when we last spoke. My concern is that I have given you reason to believe that I have a romantic interest in you. I would like to assure you that I do not,” 

Brill was not expecting that. At all. “Well, yes, you have. And I think that -”

“Even were I so inclined, it would not be appropriate.” He stared at the wall in front of them as he spoke. “You have duties to attend to. Anything else is a distraction. We cannot afford to be distracted.” Finished with his speech, he looked over at her. 

Brill was staring at him again, this time in disbelief. He truly thought that he could just pretend that there was nothing between them. Maybe he could. Or maybe he was playing games. She was not interested in such games. She blew out a breath. 

“Alright. Duty over dalliance. That makes sense to me. I’m going to eat dinner.” She walked out of the room and slammed the door. As she stalked down the hallway, she heard the door open and quick footfalls behind her. She kept walking, determined to ignore him, and then his hand was on her shoulder. She spun around. 

“What?” She spat the word at him. What more did he want? He turned her down, she accepted it, why must they continue this awful conversation?

Solas pulled back in response to her venom. He looked unsure and didn’t meet her eyes. “I -”

“No, Solas, I would really like to know what more you want. You’ve said what you had to say and I accept it.” She took a step toward him, and he stepped back. “Do you wish for me to cry? Beg you to reconsider? I won’t do that. As you’ve said, I have more important things to concern myself with than whether or not _jupalan ma_!” The tips of his ears turned pink at her words. He did not answer her, but at least he was looking at her. 

“There, I’ve yelled at you. Are you now satisfied with this exchange? Because I am hungry and tired and busy.” She looked at him, waiting for a response. He just stood there working his jaw with his ears red and his brows furrowed. Taking his silence for satisfaction, she turned and left. He did not follow. 

* * *

Brill found Varric and Dorian at a table in the dining room and joined them in a huff. They stopped their conversation and looked at her with raised eyebrows. Varric glanced over her shoulder, followed a motion across the room, and started smiling. He looked back at her, this time with only one eyebrow raised. 

“Shut up,” Brill mumbled, slumping down in her seat. 

Dorian was watching their exchange in fascination. “Ooo, what is all this about?” he asked with a grin. 

“Shut up,” Brill mumbled again. 

Varric was more than happy to get Dorian up to speed. “Well, Sparkler -”

Brill rolled her eyes at the new nickname, “Varric, please shut up.” Varric’s smile grew wider. 

“Now, now, Frosty, he’s going to be working with us tomorrow. He needs to be aware of all of the group dynamics.” He turned his attention back to Dorian. “Anyway, Frosty here has a crush on Chuckles, and I’m pretty sure he’s got one back.” He glanced at Brill to see if she was infuriated yet. She was seething, but said nothing. Since she wasn’t throwing punches, Varric soldiered on. “But they’re both stubborn, so instead of talking it out like normal people, they fight a lot, and we get to sit back and watch.”

Dorian turned to Brill with his brow furrowed. “But, I thought the templar -”

“Dorian, _please_ shut up.” Brill really thought she ought to leave. They would still talk but at least she wouldn’t have to witness it and hope for another assasination attempt to save her. She made the mistake of looking at Varric; his eyes were wide with curiosity. She stood up from the table, shoving her chair back. 

“If you two don’t stop this ridiculous gossip right now, I am leaving.”

Varric reached up and patted her elbow. “Sit down, we’re only teasing. We’ll stop. Let’s get you fed.” She looked at him with narrowed eyes and he gestured to her chair with a contrite look on his face. She turned her glare to Dorian, who put his hands up in surrender. She sat down, satisfied that they were done. 

Varric turned towards her, and his grin was back. “So, what happened with Curly?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for reading! Hopefully, Brill's "poor me" phase will be over soon. 
> 
> Next chapter will be posted on Saturday. 
> 
> Translations:
> 
> _Fenedhis lasa_ \- fuck me  
>  _Vara u’em_ \- leave me alone  
>  _Nuvenan ma son_ \- are you alright  
>  _Ame son'ala, hahren_ \- I am fantastic, elder  
>  _jupalan ma_ \- I will fuck you


	15. Liberator

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan and the Inquisition infiltrate Redcliffe Castle.
> 
> * * *
> 
> _Dorian was shaking her while the others stood back and watched. Brill realized she was crying. She looked up at him and forced some air through her vocal chords._
> 
> _“This is what happens if I fail.”_
> 
> _Dorian did not smile. He did not crack a joke. He said simply, “Yes.”_

“Announce us.” Brill stood in the inner bailey, waiting to be admitted to the great hall of Redcliffe Castle. Varric, Cassandra, and Solas stood just behind her. Brill’s hands were clasped behind her back, a twitching finger the only indicator of her nerves. 

The attendant at the door looked at her with mild distaste, then moved his gaze to her companions. “The invitation is for Mistress Lavellan alone. The rest of you will wait here.”

Brill heard Cassandra snort behind her. She turned around and gave her a look. Cassandra neutralized her face. Satisfied, Brill turned back to the attendant. “No, I don’t think they will. Where I go, they go. If my envoy is unwelcome, we will leave.”

The attendant stared at her. Brill stared at the attendant. No one moved. The only sounds were from the seagulls, calling out into the wind above. 

The attendant finally gave a nod, and gestured for the group to enter. Brill took note of the numerous Venatori sentries posted along either side of the hall as she approached Alexius. The attendant leading them called out to him. 

“My Lord Magister, the agents of the Inquisition have arrived.” His voice echoed through the hall as he stepped away, disappearing behind the sentries. Alexius stood from the arl’s throne. Felix, his son, was standing next to it. 

“My friend, it is good to see you again,” he paused, gesturing to the small group behind her, “and your associates, of course. Shall we start with pleasantries, or commence with negotiations? I seem to recall you prefer to get straight to business.” He smiled at her with a hint of condescension. Grand Enchanter Fiona stepped forward. Brill hadn’t noticed her standing among the sentries. She wondered if they were all Venatori. Perhaps Alexius had already conscripted some of the rebel mages to his cult. 

“Are we mages to have no voice in deciding our fate?” Fiona asked. 

Alexius chuckled. “Fiona, remember, you have entrusted your fates to me. Allow me to make these decisions. I will, of course, ensure your best interests are considered during our negotiations.” He turned his attention back to Brill, ready to lay out his terms. 

Brill cleared her throat. “I welcome your input, Grand Enchanter.” Fiona nodded at her in thanks. 

Alexius sat back on the throne. “I believe we established in our last meeting that you require all of my mages to close the Breach. You were about to offer compensation for their use. Have you decided what would be appropriate?”

“Yes, we know what we will offer. We’ll get to that in a moment. At present, I am more interested in discussing your experiments with time magic.”

Alexius’s eyes widened slightly. “I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He looked at Felix. “Felix, do you -”

“The Inquisition knows everything, Father.”

Alexius got to his feet and clutched Felix by his elbows, peering into his face. “Felix, what have you done?” 

Felix pulled himself from Alexius’s grasp. “This cult, this thing you are doing. It is dangerous. You wouldn’t listen to me. I didn’t know what else to do. I needed someone to help.”

Alexius turned to Brill, face flushed. “You walk into my stronghold with your stolen mark,” he spoke so forcefully that spittle flew from his lips, “which is a gift you don’t even understand, and think that you can alter my plans? You are nothing but a mistake.”

Brill smiled. “Enlighten me.”

He scoffed. “The mark belongs to your betters. Its purpose is beyond your comprehension.” 

“You sound just like the evil villain that the world expects us to be, Alexius.” Dorian stepped out from behind the line of sentries. Brill’s knees nearly buckled with relief. The Inquisition forces were in the castle. They would be successful. 

Alexius looked at Dorian with surprise, then a scowl crept across his face. “Dorian. I offered you a chance to be a part of this. You turned down the power the Elder One could offer you, the chance to help restore the Imperium to its former glory. Why are you here now?”

Brill’s attention snapped back to Alexius. “The Elder One? The one who killed the Divine? Is he a part of your cult? A Venatori?”

Alexius laughed, “He will soon be a god, and those of us who assist him will be lifted as he ascends.” Brill watched him with trepidation. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a sentry fall. Then another. Her troops stood in the places of the fallen. Alexius failed to notice, caught up in his fanaticism. He wasn’t yelling anymore, though. He was having a quiet but heated conversation with Felix and Dorian, who both looked horrified. 

“No!” Alexius spun away from them. “If I undo the mistake at the Temple, he will save you, Felix!” He looked out into the great hall. “Venatori, seize them! The Elder One demands the Herald’s life!” Confusion found its way to his face as the sentries remained motionless. “Venatori!” He yelled again. 

“They are dead, Alexius. Give this up and come with us.” Brill stepped toward him slowly, hoping he would see reason and allow himself to be captured. 

Alexius looked at her with rage and shoved Felix away from him. Felix fell back behind the sentry line. “You are a mistake! You should not exist!” He pulled an amulet out of his robes and began chanting. 

“No!” Dorian jumped toward Alexius and tried to wrestle the amulet away. Brill ran up the steps to help. Just before she reached them, there was a flash of brilliant white light and the great hall disappeared. 

* * *

She was wet. And cold. As her vision recovered, she became aware of the sounds of fighting. She jumped to her feet, ready to join the Inquisition’s battle with the Venatori. Confusion hit her when she realized she was in a flooded, dark prison cell, and someone was fighting just outside of the door. She raced out to find Dorian battling two Venatori. She froze them solid and shattered them. Dorian turned toward her, panting. 

“Thanks for the assist. I have bad news.” 

“Is it that we’ve been thrown into a flooded prison? I can see that, thanks.” Brill was trying to squeeze the dank water out of her robes. “How long was I out?” She looked up at him and she felt a chill when she saw the look on his face. He was panicked. 

“You were out for mere seconds.”

Brill frowned. “Then how are we in this dungeon? I don’t remember being brought here.” Dorian wiped a hand down his face. 

“Yes, you wouldn’t remember that, because we weren’t brought here. We were sent here. Alexius used his amulet.” He took a deep breath. “It... displaced us. I believe we are still in the castle, so at least there’s that. But can you feel the difference in the Veil?”

Brill took a moment to attune to her surroundings. The chill she felt blossomed into a shiver as she realized. “The Veil is broken.” She could feel the disruptions clearly now that she focused. The atmosphere was ripe with Fade energy. The energy felt different. Usually, in places where the Veil is thin or torn, Fade energy is invigorating and a mage’s mana charges more quickly. The energy she was feeling now felt wrong. Invigorating, but wrong. She looked at Dorian.

“What has happened?”

Dorian placed a hand on her shoulder to brace her. “Alexius used time magic. We are in another time, but I have no idea when. We need to find Alexius and use his amulet to get back.”

Brill blinked at him a few times, trying to absorb what he’d just told her. “You were right. This is bad.”

Dorian forced a smile. “No, it’s terrible. Thankfully, I was able to counter his spell. He was trying to erase you from time itself.” 

Her jaw dropped open. “Why would he do that? How did you know that’s what he was doing? How did you counter it?” She started pacing around in the water, questions pouring out of her. She could not quell her sense of doom. “Where are the others? Our soldiers? Cassandra? Leliana? Varric? Solas? Are they here? Did he send us all through?”

Dorian reached out to stop her pacing and turned her to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry, Herald, I don’t have all of the answers. Not yet. We have to remain calm and find Alexius. I think I can reverse his spell, if I have the time.” He clapped her on the shoulder and laughed. “Get it? Time?” Brill just stared at him. He shrugged and started walking to some stairs at the end of the corridor of cells. “Come on, let’s get out of here and see what we can find.”

When they reached the top of the stairs, they stopped. Shocked. The open space was awash in a red glow. Red lyrium was everywhere. It was growing out of the walls, through doors, stalagmites and stalactites of it growing through the floor and ceiling. There was only one way to go, and they had to be very careful not to touch any of it. They crept slowly through the halls and eventually heard a ghostly song floating out of a corridor. 

“Andraste blessed me, Andraste blessed me...”

“Lysas, please. Please stop, just for a few minutes.” The second voice was strange, but familiar. 

Brill grabbed Dorian’s forearm. “That’s Grand Enchanter Fiona! She’s alive!” They ran down the corridor to find her. When they saw her, the two of them drew back in horror. 

She was impaled by a massive spike of red lyrium that appeared to grow out of the wall, through Fiona’s abdomen, and down to the floor. It was sprouting from Fiona’s skin. One of her eyes was missing, with a spike of the lyrium in its place. Fiona tried to turn her head to look at them, but gave up quickly. She was stuck. They could see another piece of lyrium embedded within Fiona’s neck, immobilizing her. The tip of it poked painfully from beneath her skin. Tears sprung to Brill’s eyes. She didn’t know Fiona well, but she knew that no one should have to suffer that way. 

“Andraste guide me, Andraste guide me...” the singing continued from an adjacent cell. Brill closed her eyes for a moment, afraid to look. When she did look, she let out a relieved breath. The elf in the cell, the one who’d told them where to find Fiona in Redcliffe, was not in nearly as bad shape as Fiona. Physically, anyway. He was rocking back and forth on his heels, singing the same thing over and over again. He didn’t seem to notice Brill was there. She turned back to Fiona.

“Fiona, what has happened? Why is red lyrium growing out of everything?”

Fiona answered, her voice ragged and gasping. It seemed to vibrate in several frequencies at once. “It is an infection. After long exposure, you become... this. Then they harvest it from your corpse.” Brill felt sick. She looked around for a place to vomit. 

Dorian interrupted. “What is the date? We must know the date.”

Fiona took another labored breath. “Harvestmere. 9:42... Dragon.” Her eyes flicked back to Brill. “Your spymaster is here. Find her before the Elder One knows you’ve come.” She closed her eyes and wouldn’t or couldn’t answer any more questions. 

“My tears are my sins, my sins, my sins...” Lysas was still singing his haunting song. Dorian pulled Brill out of the room. 

“Okay. We have missed a year. One year, and this is how -” he ran his fingers through his hair, mussing it. “We have to get back. I can’t believe Alexius would allow -” He was pacing around the red lyrium, muttering to himself. Brill watched for a moment, feeling as shaken as he. 

“Dorian.” Brill stood in front of him and he stopped. “Dorian, we are going to find Leliana. You are going to use the amulet, and we are going to go back. As you said, we must remain calm.” Dorian grabbed her into a hug and she stiffened for a moment, then relaxed into it. She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed. “We are going to fix this. We will make sure it never happens.” They stepped back and Dorian presented his elbow. 

“Shall we continue?” She took it and they did, arm in arm. 

The dungeons were a maze to navigate. They spent too much time going in circles and finding dead ends. After quite some time of wandering hopelessly, they heard someone chanting, accompanied by another voice humming along. 

“The Light shall lead her safely through the paths of this world and into the next. For she who trusts the Maker, fire is her water.” Brill perked up with excitement. She grabbed Dorian’s hand and rushed to find the source.

They found Cassandra sitting in a cell with her back to them, reciting from the Chant of Light. 

“Andraste’s sacred knickers! You’re alive! Where were you? How did you escape?” Brill spun around to see Varric in a cell opposite Cassandra, a grin plastered on his face. 

“Varric! Thank the gods! I am so glad to see you. How do I get you two out of here?” Brill was looking at the lock on his cell, worried. Dorian stepped around her and melted it; the door swung open. Cassandra came up from behind Brill, already liberated, and squeezed Varric to her chest. She held him back at arm’s length. 

“Thank you.” Cassandra sounded as though she might cry. Varric turned red and looked away. 

“Love you too, Seeker.” Fascinated by the display in front of her, Brill momentarily forgot the horror that surrounded them. Dorian brought her back. 

“We escaped nothing. Alexius sent us into the future. We just got here.” 

Varric looked at Brill and grinned at her again. “Everything that happens to you is weird.” Brill’s heart dropped out of her chest when she realized that Varric’s eyes were glowing red. She dragged her gaze to Cassandra and saw that she, too, was infected with red lyrium. They weren’t as bad off as Fiona had been, but they were already corrupted. 

“We’re too late,” she whispered to herself.

“No, we are not too late. This will never happen.” Dorian crossed his arms and gave her a stern look. “We’re going to find your spymaster, and then Alexius.” He turned to Cassandra and Varric, who were now holding hands. “Will the two of you be joining us?”

Varric and Cassandra looked at each other and seemed to be communicating without speaking. Varric looked back at Dorian. “We’re dying anyway. Might as well die taking out the bastard who started all this.” They had started toward the door when Brill froze.

“Where is Solas?”

Cassandra and Varric shared another look before Cassandra answered. “I am sorry, Lavellan, we don’t know. We haven’t seen him in months. He reacted... poorly. To your death.”

“Did they kill him?”

Cassandra shook her head, “I do not know. He was here with us, for a time, but he kept killing the guards. They removed him and we have not seen him since.” 

Brill rushed out of the room. She had to find him. The other three followed her, and they resumed their navigation of the red lyrium maze. They ran into a few small groups of Venatori. Dorian and Brill were rendered support only during each skirmish, as Varric and Cassandra tore through their enemies with brutal efficiency. Brill wasn’t even sure where they had found weapons. 

They passed by another small corridor that was choked with red lyrium. Brill considered squeezing through, but Dorian stopped her. He said it was too tight, too risky.

“Is someone there?” A subdued voice asked from beyond the lyrium. Brill squeezed through the doorway despite Dorian’s protests. The room behind the lyrium was vast, with only one cell. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw Solas. He spared her an uninterested glance and then did a double take. In an instant he was pressed against the cell bars, gripping them in his fists. 

“You are alive? I saw you die!” His eyes were wide, darting all over the cell, looking for a way out. He tried to blast open the door and dropped to his knees in pain, grasping at his wrists. It was then that Brill saw he was shackled, the chains on his wrists covered in wards. 

“Dorian!” she called out to him, and he cursed and squeezed past the red lyrium to join her. Dorian melted the lock and stepped into the cell. He bent over Solas, mumbling. 

“What are you doing?” Brill asked, attempting to look around his hunched form.

“Trying to get these,” he grunted in frustration, ”blasted shackles off of your friend.” Another grunt. ”If he would hold still!” Dorian grumbled some more. 

After a few more moments of struggle, she heard him say “Aha!” and then he fell back on his rear and Solas was out of the cell. He rushed toward Brill and before she knew what was happening, she was caged to the wall between his arms, his forehead pressed to hers. “Brill,” he breathed. She gasped as she felt his mana flood into her. It was overwhelming and she couldn’t stop herself from responding, pushing back with her own.

He speaks to her in a rush of unfamiliar elvish. His voice is hushed, and when his eyes flick up to hers, she sees with a pang of fear that they are glowing red, even brighter than Varric’s and Cassandra’s. He is whispering, his eyes pleading with her as he strokes his fingers along the line of her jaw, her chin, down her neck. His other hand clutches at her waist and pulls her flush to him. He is hard against her as his lips brush across her ear. He continues to whisper, “ _Uneman mi’nas’sal’in_ . _Isalan dera na aron tuelan_.” Heat spreads through her, and everything but his touch and his words fade from her mind. She responds with fervor, gripping his forearm and running her fingers up his torso. A soft groan escapes him. He relaxes in response to her touch, relief and excitement pulsing within his mana and she wonders dimly why he-

Solas was yanked away from her abruptly. He made for her again but Dorian gave him a quick zap with his staff. Solas stopped in his tracks and shook his head as if to clear it while Brill tried to catch her breath against the wall. 

“As much as I love happy reunions, my friends, this is neither the time nor the place.” Dorian sounded mildly annoyed, if not a little breathless himself. “I don’t find creepy dungeons filled with red lyrium to be the height of romantic inspiration, do you?” Solas was standing there staring at her with a look of disbelief. He shook his head again and took a step back from Brill, clasping his hands behind his back. 

“ _Ir abelas_ , Herald. I am very glad to see you still live. I am wondering how it is possible.”

“The spell Alexius cast displaced us in time.” Dorian answered. “We just got here, so to speak.” 

Solas looked at Dorian with fascination. “Can you reverse the process? You could return and obviate the events of the last year. It may not be too late.” He sounded excited. 

Dorian grinned at him. “That is the plan. Will you come along?” 

Solas nodded and looked at Brill. “My life is yours.” 

* * *

The group continued to explore the dungeons in search of Leliana. The first time they heard a woman cry out in pain, Brill moved to help. Solas grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her back. She drew her elbow away and raised her eyebrows in question. 

“You cannot help her. You cannot help any of them unless we find Alexius.” He spoke in a low voice so they would not be heard by the Venatori in the rooms around them. 

Brill hissed, “What do you mean, we can’t help? Of course we can. We can’t stand back and let people be tortured.” 

Solas gave her a haunted look, “They have been through worse. Getting involved will only bring unwanted attention to us.” He walked away, ignoring the screams of pain that were rising up around them from behind closed doors. 

Brill tried to ignore the cries, the groans, the screams. The sounds of flesh being whipped and struck were almost too much for her to take. Every step she took was heavy with concern for the people being ravaged in the rooms surrounding her. People whose only sin was to not bow down before the Elder One on his terms. She heard a Chantry mother refusing to disavow her belief in the Maker and Andraste. She screamed and screamed until the screams were abruptly cut off. And then she heard her name. 

“Tell me how Lavellan knew of the sacrifice at the Temple.” An angry male voice.

“Never.” Leliana’s voice, followed by the sound of leather slapping against bare skin and Leliana’s scream of pain. All five of them heard it and hurriedly checked doors, trying to determine which one her voice had come from. 

The angry voice spoke again. “Talk! The Elder One demands answers!” Leliana laughed madly at him. 

“He’ll get used to the disappointment.” There was another slap of leather and another scream. Dorian waved his arms wildly to get everyone’s attention. He had found the room. They all gathered by the door. After looking around to make sure they were ready, Cassandra kicked it in. The Venatori was picking up a knife from a table filled with various instruments of torture, and Leliana was trussed up by her wrists on an inclined table. The Venatori spun around when the door slammed open. Leliana’s eyes darted up. She saw Brill and threw her legs on the Venatori’s shoulders, wrapping them around his neck and twisting with a snap. His lifeless body fell to the floor in a heap. 

Brill ran to Leliana and found that the shackles holding her wrists were locked. Cassandra joined her in a frantic search for the key, finding it on the table amongst the tools. She unlocked the shackles and Leliana collapsed into her arms, looking at Brill with wide eyes. Her eyes did not glow red, like the others. 

“You’re alive!”

Brill tried and failed to muster a smile. “Yes, Alexius miscalculated and sent us forward in time. We just arrived.”

Leliana did not ask questions. She found her ragged clothes and began to get dressed. Brill tried not to stare at Leliana’s flayed skin, but she couldn’t look away. Every inch of her was covered in scars, as if she had been peeled multiple times over. The younger scars were an angry mottled pink. Some were still weeping blood. Brill tried to find a spot without damage. There was none. When Leliana was dressed, she went to a chest near the wall and pulled out a bow and a quiver full of arrows. 

“We are going to find Alexius and force him to send you back. Do you have weapons?” She looked around and saw everyone nodding. “Then let’s go. The whole world has suffered; the loss of the Wardens, the demon armies, the murder of Empress Celene...” she trailed off for a moment, then shook herself. “We must end this.” Without waiting to see if anyone followed, she walked silently out of the room. 

Leliana led them into the courtyard. Brill and Dorian saw the sky and stopped in their tracks. The Breach was spread across the heavens as far as they could see in all directions. Giant rock outcroppings hovered ominously in midair. Everything was cast in a sickly green light, and it was impossible to tell whether it was night or day. They had been right. The Veil was broken. Brill turned and looked at Solas as new spasms of horror jolted through her veins. He cast his eyes up to the ruined sky. 

“The Veil is shattered. There is nothing separating the Fade from the waking world.” 

Brill looked back to the sky. This is what will happen if they don’t close the Breach. This is what will happen if she fails. This is what did happen. Brill looked at Dorian, but he, too, was still staring at the sky. She couldn’t catch her breath. The world was dying because she failed to stop Alexius. Failed to stop the Elder One. Failed to close the Breach. Cullen was right. She tried again to breathe and couldn’t do it. She should have begged the templars for help. She should never have gone back to Redcliffe. Cullen was right. 

Another awful thought occurred to her. Was Cullen dead? What had happened to the Inquisition? Surely it failed without her mark. Cullen would never have stopped trying to retrieve her, Cassandra, Varric, Leliana, Solas, their troops... No, he was surely dead, too. Everyone was dead or dying. 

Dorian was shaking her while the others stood back and watched. Brill realized she was crying. She looked up at him and forced some air through her vocal chords. 

“This is what happens if I fail.”

Dorian did not smile. He did not crack a joke. He said simply, “Yes.”

Brill knew she should be asking questions. She should be finding out who the Elder One is. What happened to the Wardens, where the demon army had come from. But she didn’t. She couldn’t bring herself to ask, and none of her companions seemed willing to offer the information freely. They were oddly silent, and she was completely consumed with the need to find Alexius and return to her time. The real time. The rest of it didn’t matter. Nothing in this nightmare version of the world mattered. It would all be undone. She would make sure of it. 

The group went on a tear. They had to fight their way through demons in the courtyard and close a few rifts, because of course there were still rifts despite the Veil being shattered. They entered the castle into an upstairs living area. Leliana led them through the empty hallways. Brill wondered dimly where all of the Venatori were, though she was glad they didn’t have to fight their way through wave after wave of enemies. They found a stairwell that led down. 

“This will lead us to the great hall,” Leliana said. There were sounds of fighting coming up the stairs. 

“Is there another way?” Brill asked. 

“No.” Leliana charged down the stairs. They followed. 

There was another rift in the hall when they entered, as well as a group of Venatori fighting the demons that continually ripped through it. Brill wondered how they lived like this. They had no means to close the rift, as far as she knew. Did they have shifts assigned to fight demons all hours of the day? Cassandra nudged her out of her musings and she joined the fight. She focused on closing the rift while her allies kept the demons and Venatori at bay. 

With the rift closed, there were only Venatori to worry about, but they continued streaming into the hall. Seemingly endless waves of enemies ran in from several doorways, and Brill didn’t know if it would ever end. Varric and Leliana had both climbed up some scaffolding and were picking off Venatori around the edges of the battle. Cassandra was in the center of the fray, surrounded by fallen opponents and glowing red. Dorian was burning whole groups, causing panic among those set aflame. Brill had to douse Cassandra with ice when a flaming Venatori ambushed her. The enemies kept coming. 

Brill had just placed a new barrier over Cassandra when she was struck down from behind. She landed on her left wrist and felt it snap beneath her. Blinding pain shot up her arm and set her spine on fire. Her staff skittered across the floor, out of reach. The attacker rushed her, and she scrambled to get to her feet. She used her injured arm to push herself up, the injury forgotten in her haste, and she felt the broken bones grind and shatter. She fell once more, struck motionless as the pain shot through her again. She rolled over, and there were four Venatori advancing on her. She tried to quell her panic and cast a wall of ice between the attackers and herself. It wasn’t as tall as she would have liked, but it was wide and curved in toward them. She turned again to get up, and then there was a sword tip at the back of her neck. She froze. 

“We have your Herald! Lay down your weapons and we’ll let her live.” The woman with the sword at her neck bellowed through the hall. The fighting stopped and it was silent. Brill did not hear weapons being laid down. She could only see Cassandra, off to her right. She was standing completely still, breathing heavily. Her eyes were darting around the hall, contemplating the options. Their eyes met, and Cassandra gave her the slightest of nods. 

“Herald. On your knees. The rest of you I will offer one more chance to save her. If you do not comply, the Herald dies. Lay down your weapons.”

Brill gathered as much Fade energy as her mana would allow. She lifted her injured arm in a gesture of surrender and pushed herself up with the other. She felt the sword digging into her neck as she recast her barrier and fade-stepped to Cassandra’s side. The room exploded in activity and she and Cassandra were surrounded almost immediately. Her mana already fully recharged, Brill released her barrier in an icy blast. The room went silent again. She looked around, shocked. Everything was encased in ice. Everyone was frozen. Cassandra, Varric, Leliana, Dorian. Frozen. She dispelled the ice on Cassandra, who reanimated, shaking with cold, and surveyed the room. 

“I did not know you could do that.” She said to Brill, teeth chattering. She stomped away and began shattering the frozen Venatori with her shield. No more enemies entered the hall. Brill released Dorian, and he moved off to thaw Leliana and Varric. Her shattered wrist throbbed as she looked around for Solas. She found him near a large stone door that was thrumming with magic. His back was to her. 

She approached him as the others finished off the frozen Venatori. “How did you avoid my mana surge?” she asked him. He stiffened his shoulders and slowly turned to face her. 

“It is unimportant,” he said, glancing over her shoulder at the others. “Alexius has locked himself away beyond this door. These will open it.” He looked down and held out a hand to reveal several carved shards of red lyrium. Brill shied back a step. 

“You shouldn’t be touching those,” Brill said quietly. His eyes flicked up to hers again, and she felt the prickle of fear at the sight of his glowing red eyes. He reached out with his empty hand to place it over her injury and healed her as he spoke. 

“I am already infected. We are dying. You know this. We must retrieve the amulet and we must get you back. This world must not come to pass.” A pained look crossed his face. “ _Ar avy delavir. Ar isalan na.”_ He let go of her arm and turned back to the door, placing the lyrium shards in small spaces within it. The others joined them as he placed the final piece. The bolts lining the door frame began to turn with a series of clicks. Leliana stepped in front of the door and turned to look at them. 

“Now we finish this.” They walked into the great hall. 

* * *

The great hall was dimly lit and empty save for two figures near the throne. Alexius was bent over someone who was crouched on the floor. Dorian strode forward. 

“Was it worth it, Alexius?” he shouted as he approached the throne. “What you’ve done to the world, was it worth it?”

Alexius turned slowly toward them. “Dorian. I knew I would see you again.” He looked back at the figure hunched behind him. “It doesn’t matter now. All we can do is wait for the end.” He walked to the throne and slouched in it, revealing the other person in the room. The figure on the floor had once been a man, but was no longer. His eyes were so sunken that they were invisible within the shadows of their sockets. Limp hair hung in ragged clumps from his scalp. His skin was mottled and grey, like that of the dead. His mouth hung open, slack, and saliva trailed from the corner of his lips to the floor. Dorian took several steps back in revulsion. 

“It does matter, Alexius,” Brill spoke up from behind Dorian. “Give us your amulet. We will go back and prevent all of this.”

“Useless. Do you think I haven’t tried? Countless times I tried. It cannot be done. The past cannot be changed.” He put his head in his hands. Leliana crept around, sneaking up behind the blighted creature as Alexius continued. “All that I fought for, all that I betrayed, and what have I wrought? Ruin and death. There is nothing else. The Elder One comes: for me, for you, for us all.”

There was a feeble gasp from the ruined man on the floor as Leliana hauled him up into her arms, placing a dagger to his neck. Alexius sat up and jerked his head toward the sound. He stumbled from the throne onto his knees as he reached for the creature.

“Felix! Please don’t hurt him, please!” He clasped his hands together as if in prayer. 

Dorian moaned, “That’s Felix?” He stumbled back into Brill, and she caught him and held him up. His voice broke as he whispered, “Maker’s breath, Alexius, what have you done?”

Alexius didn’t look at Dorian. He crept forward on his knees, reaching for Felix. “He would have died, Dorian. I saved him. Please, please, I will do anything. Do not kill him.”

Leliana tightened her grip on Felix. “Give the amulet to Dorian. Do it now.”

Alexius scrambled to his feet and reached beneath his robes. He tore the amulet from his neck and rushed over to Dorian, shoving it into his hands. He turned back to Leliana, once again pleading with his hands clasped. “There! I’ve done what you’ve asked. Please let him go, please, please, please, you can’t kill him, please.”

Leliana narrowed her eyes at him as a terrible scowl spread across her ruined face. “It is not enough. I want the world back.”

She slit Felix’s throat and dropped him to the ground. Alexius dove for his son, gathering him up in his arms as the blood pumped from his throat. Alexius pulled Felix onto his lap, whispering through great sobs, “No. No, no, no, no, no.” An arrow suddenly protruded from the robes at his chest and Brill jerked her gaze up to see Leliana poised with another nocked in her bow, waiting. Alexius slumped forward over Felix, father and son taking their final breaths together. 

Dorian leaned back against Brill’s chest and she could feel the silent tears wracking through him. 

“He wanted to die, didn’t he? After all he did, how could he not? Maker, Alexius. You great fool.” He walked over to the dead men, knelt down, and whispered something that Brill couldn’t hear. 

Leliana grabbed Dorian by his collar and hauled him to his feet. “There will be time for mourning after you and the Herald have gone back. Cast your spell.”

Dorian pulled the amulet from his pocket, scowling at Leliana. “This is the same amulet I helped him with in Minrathous. Give me an hour and I should be able to crack it.” He bent his head to examine the amulet, and gave a yelp of surprise when Leliana shoved him. 

“An hour? We do not have an hour!” The floor beneath them suddenly shook as though something very large had landed on the roof. Bits of rubble came loose from above and fell to the floor around them. Leliana’s eyes went wide. “The Elder One,” she whispered. 

Solas, Cassandra, and Varric ran up behind them. Brill had forgotten they were there. Solas grabbed her by the elbows. 

“You cannot stay here!” His face was twisted with anguish and fear. He turned to Cassandra and Varric, both of whom shared his expression. They nodded at him and headed for the door they had entered before, holding hands. He looked to Leliana next.

“We will hold the outer door. When they get past us, it will be your turn.” Leliana nodded. Solas turned to follow Cassandra and Varric. Brill grabbed his sleeve and cried out, dread blooming in her core. 

“I will not let you die!”

Leliana stepped between them, “Look at us. We are already dead. The only way we live is if this day never comes.” She and Solas walked to the door, Leliana stopping just inside of it and nocking her bow. Solas put his hand on the door and turned back to look at Brill. She wanted to call out to him, to beg him to stay with her. He gave her one last nod and disappeared through the door. 

The shriek of demons and sounds of fighting grew louder with every passing second. Dorian was furiously chanting to the amulet, sneaking nervous glances toward the door. Brill stood next to him, willing him silently to work faster, to get them out of there before she had to watch her friends die. The door slammed open and Brill spun around just in time to see Cassandra’s lifeless body fall to the floor. Varric howled with anguish as he charged a terror demon. He didn’t see the rage demon coming up behind him. Brill did. She watched it tear Varric apart while she screamed internally. 

Solas cast pull of the abyss and obliterated whole handfuls of demons with stonefist after stonefist. His barrier failed and he was cut down by several Venatori. This time she screamed out loud. It drew the attention of the demons pouring into the room.

Dorian was shouting his chant now, panic leaking out with his words. Leliana was a blur, unloading arrows and taking down an obscene number of Venatori and demons. Then she was out of ammo, and she was knocked back with the force of an arrow in her shoulder. She charged the enemy, using her bow as a blunt force weapon until a Venatori caught her up in his arms and put a sword to her throat. Brill took a step toward her and Dorian grabbed her by the arm, pulling her back. 

“You move and we all die!” he screamed at her as a portal appeared beside them. Dorian pulled her toward it and she looked back, getting one last glimpse of her people motionless on the floor. The room flashed white and the great hall disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Chapter 16 on Saturday. 
> 
> Translations:
> 
> _Uneman mi’nas’sal’in_ \- I felt the knife once more in my soul (I missed you terribly/thought I'd never see you again)  
>  _Isalan dera na aron tuelan_ \- I will touch you like a god  
>  _Ir abelas_ \- I'm sorry  
>  _Ar avy delavir_ \- I was stupid  
>  _Ar islana na_ \- I need you


	16. Eremite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan wraps things up in Redcliffe.
> 
> * * *
> 
> _She screams. Solas is down. He is cut in half. There is nothing she can do. Leliana is next. She is trapped in the grip of a Venatori, a sword to her throat. She wants to help but Dorian pulls her back. She spins toward him and gasps._
> 
> _“No. You’re dead. You died!” She cries, pulling from his grasp._

“Reverse the spell! Now!”

The first thing Brill became aware of as the blinding light began to dim was Solas shouting at the top of his lungs. He was inches away from Alexius, leaning over him with his fists clenched at his sides. Varric was laughing behind her. 

“Relax, Chuckles, they’re already back.” 

Brill shoved Solas out of the way and slammed Alexius against the pillar behind him. 

“I should kill you without a second thought!” All of the pent up despair she had felt in the destroyed future morphed into a burning rage. Alexius didn’t attempt to stop her when she pulled him up and slammed him back again. And again. And again. 

Dorian dragged her off of him, and Alexius slumped to the ground. 

“Let her kill me, Dorian. If she does not, the Elder One will.” He looked up at Felix, who was standing next to him with a pitying look on his face. “I’m sorry Felix. I thought I could save you.”

Brill leapt at him again, but Cassandra grabbed her elbows and held her back. 

“Did you consider the cost, Alexius?” she shouted, “one man’s life in exchange for the world? That is reasonable to you?!”

Alexius didn’t respond. He just sat on the floor and looked confused. Brill continued; her rage hadn’t even begun to dissipate.

“If you’re curious: you didn’t save him. In the end, he was a monstrous, blighted creature. He would have been better off dead.” She spat on Alexius. Felix wore a horrified expression, and Dorian stepped in front of Brill. 

“That is quite enough, Herald. I think you’ve made your point. Let’s -”

The door to the great hall crashed open and Ferelden troops marched in. Behind them was King Allistair Theirin, and he looked furious. Cassandra let go of Brill and bowed her head, as did most of the Inquisition soldiers. 

“Where is Grand Enchanter Fiona?” he demanded, scanning the room. Fiona stepped forward, looking meek and nervous. 

“I am here, Your Majesty.” She bowed her head to him. 

“Arl Teagan paid me a visit in Denerim. I am wondering why you thought it in good taste to give his castle away to a Tevinter Magister?” The king was practically snarling at her. All of the color left Fiona’s face. 

“Your Majesty, it was not my intention to -”

“Lucky for me, I am not interested in intentions. I am, however, now indebted to Arl Teagan, which is not so lucky for me. The queen will be furious when she finds out about this.” He smiled a little even though he was still yelling. “I hope you have a new place to stay. Wait, no, I don’t actually care. You and your mages need to leave Ferelden. Immediately.” And with that, he left the great hall in the direction of the living quarters. 

Fiona had completely wilted under the king’s chastisement. Brill snapped her fingers at her to get her attention. 

“Gather your mages, every single one of them, and go to Haven. We are closing the Breach.” 

Fiona straightened and looked offended. “And what will be the terms?”

Brill rolled her eyes. “The terms are that you need somewhere to go and I need mages to close the Breach. Is that good enough for you? I’m not seeing other options.”

Fiona narrowed her eyes, but replied, “Very well, then. We will travel to Haven. Thank you, Herald.” She bowed her head and left the castle. 

“And what is to become of me?” Alexius asked from the floor behind her. 

Brill looked at Cassandra. “Get him out of here,” she said through her teeth. Cassandra directed a few of their soldiers to shackle Alexius and remove him from the great hall. Dorian followed, guiding a stricken Felix out of the doors. Leliana arrived and sent the rest of the Inquisition forces to find their camps. They were going to spend the night in the Hinterlands and return to Haven the next day. 

Brill was left in the great hall with no one to yell at. 

“Hey, Frosty, you want to tell us what happened?” Varric sauntered toward her. When she looked at him, she winced. Varric frowned at her. “What’s wrong?”

Brill couldn’t bring herself to tell him that she couldn’t get his gut-wrenching cry out of her thoughts. That she was remembering him being ripped to shreds by a rage demon. Again. And again. She took a step back and looked around for an escape, but he was between her and the door. Cassandra stepped closer with worry written across her face, and Brill remembered the shape of her on the floor of the great hall, too still to be alive. She remembered Varric’s cry. She pushed down against the rising panic and sidestepped Varric, eyes on the doors ahead. 

“Lavellan?” Cassandra called after her. Brill did not turn around. She couldn’t look at them. She just couldn’t. She heard footfalls behind her, and she picked up her pace, but she wasn’t quick enough. Solas caught her by the elbow and turned her towards him, capturing her other elbow before she could pull away. He leveled his eyes with hers and peered at her with equal parts worry and curiosity.

“What is wrong? Will you tell us what happened?” Brill could hardly make out his words because of the blood rushing inside of her ears. She remembered him annihilating demons, not noticing the Venatori at his back. The expression of shock on his face when his barrier failed and the first sword point punctured through the front of his robes from the inside. His eyes meeting hers as the second and third sword cut through him. His lips moving inaudibly as he fell.

Brill shut her eyes and tried to back away, but he held on. She could hear Cassandra and Leliana speaking quietly as they came closer. She shoved Solas away from her, and he grunted and stumbled back, losing his grip on her arms. Brill ran out of the great hall. 

“I’ll meet you in Haven!” she yelled over her shoulder. She heard them shouting at her as she ran, but she didn’t slow down and she definitely did not turn around. She passed Dorian and Felix near the docks. 

“Herald! What’s the hurry?” Dorian shouted after her. She ran past them without a second glance. She had to get her pack, had to get her horse, had to get out of Redcliffe. Now. 

* * *

Brill managed to escape Redcliffe without anyone stopping her. She urged her horse into a gallop as soon as they were out of the village and rode northwest toward Haven. Once she thought she had put enough distance between herself and everyone else, she allowed the horse to slow to a walk. They both needed to catch their breath. The sun was low in the sky, and she was more than happy to find a small cave under the rocky outcroppings that bordered Lake Calenhad. 

She tied her horse, Mahariel, to one of the many trees that shielded the cave entrance from view. As she set up camp, she gave thanks that her quick escape had allowed her to be free from thought. At least for a while. Now that she was alone, they crept back up on her; though she wasn’t plagued with the memories of her fallen friends. Instead, Keeper Deshanna came to mind. Specifically, the last time Deshanna had come to collect her from Innan. 

It was not a pleasant memory, and it would have been hazy at best were it not for Deshanna’s intervention afterward. 

They didn’t hear Deshanna approach, so caught up were they in their adrenaline-fueled passion. A bucket of frigid water brought them to the present. Innan had laughed madly and rolled off of her, but Brill made the mistake of looking Deshanna in the eye. The only thing she found there was disgust. Pure, revolted, disappointed disgust. The shock of seeing him forced her to look at the scene surrounding her with fresh eyes. A wave of nausea hit as she took in the slaughtered halla. Innan’s erection rigid and eager as he laughed. Their naked bodies slathered in blood and gore. It was horrific. Bone-deep mortification overtook her and she stumbled away to vomit between some trees. 

Deshanna stared at her in silent fury as she approached him afterward. He did not speak. Unsure what to do, she stood perfectly still with her eyes on the ground. His silent judgement seemed to last for hours, made all the worse with Innan cackling nearby. 

“This is the last time.” He whispered. Without warning, he lit the campsite ablaze with a blistering wave of flame. The campsite was incinerated instantly. Innan included. Brill stared in shock for a few moments, unwilling to believe what she’d seen. By the time she started screaming, Deshanna already had her tackled to the ground with her wrists tied and warded. He had been through this before, and he was ready for her. 

Brill tried to fight him, but gave up quickly. He had her. She settled for walking placidly behind him as he led the way home. For the most part. 

When they were a day or so away from the Lavellan aravel, Deshanna stopped and bid Brill to set up camp. He kept her there for three days and taught her about the wild bits. 

Brill reflected on the experience as she led Mahariel to a nearby creek for a drink. It had been brutal, but effective. She didn’t have Deshanna now. This time, she would have to work things out on her own. If she took her time returning to Haven, if she didn’t rush, it would be enough. She looked to the sky, which had gone dark with the sunset. She decided to start tomorrow. Tonight, she would rest. 

* * *

She screams. Solas is down. He is cut in half. There is nothing she can do. Leliana is next. She is trapped in the grip of a Venatori, a sword to her throat. She wants to help but Dorian pulls her back. She spins toward him and gasps.

“No. You’re dead. You died!” She cries, pulling from his grasp. 

Solas looks appalled. The great hall vanishes around them and is replaced with the training field in Haven. Brill sucks in a sharp breath. 

“What -”

Solas stops her with a finger almost touching her lips. She pulls away from his touch and looks around again. She is confused. She brings her eyes back to Solas and waits for an explanation. He gives her a small smile. 

“We are in the Fade. You are dreaming.”

Brill remembers he is a Somniari. His eyes are not glowing red. His skin is healthy and there are no other signs of a red lyrium infection. She lets out a sigh of relief. This is a dream. This is the real Solas. The Solas she ran from in Redcliffe. He is in her dream.

He reaches for her hand. “Where are you, Herald?” She pulls her hand away. He is not interested and he should not touch her. 

“I am on my way back to Haven. I told you I would meet you there. Why have you invaded my dreams?” She is irritated. Showing up uninvited to one’s dream is forgivable when her life depends on it. This feels like a violation. She frowns at him. A look of hurt flits across his face, and he clasps his hands behind his back. 

“I am simply trying to find you. Cassandra and Varric are concerned. Also, I have not invaded your dreams. If you did not want me here, I would not be able to find you. ”

This feels like an untruth, but Brill doesn’t press the issue. For now. “As you can see, I am fine. Good night.” She turns away from him and tries to will him away, out of her dream. She just wants to sleep tonight. She wonders how he changed her dream. Was it even really her dream if he could simply walk in and manipulate the Fade around her? 

Solas tugged at her sleeve. “I wish to talk about your experience in Redcliffe. It is clear that what you experienced was upsetting.” Brill does not turn around. Maybe if she is excessively rude, he will leave. 

“No.” She replies. 

“It would be for the best if -”

“No.”

Solas steps around to the front of her again and puts his hands on her shoulders. “Brill, it is unwise to -”

She steps back from him. She is angry now. She asked him to leave and he is not leaving. “Solas. I need to be alone.” He steps back, too. He is frowning, but he nods. 

“Very well. I will return tomorrow night. Sleep well, Herald.” He is gone and she is back in the great hall of Redcliffe Castle, surrounded by horror. She thinks maybe she should have let him stay. 

* * *

Brill and Mahariel got an early start in the morning, and Brill began to unpack her wild bits. She had many, and it was good that she would have a couple of days to work on them. 

She brought to mind the first. She was very young, too young yet to fully understand the concept of ownership. Sha’ael had two hearth cakes. Brill had already eaten hers, but Sha’ael just left his sitting on his plate, untouched, when he ran off to play with another boy. The cakes were sitting right there, and she wanted them. He wasn’t eating them. He was playing. He probably didn’t even remember that he had cake. So Brill took his cake. She shoved one in her mouth and held the other in her hand. 

But Sha’ael came back for his cakes. She was still chewing the first one when he returned. He cried loudly when he discovered them missing. That was when Brill knew she was wrong; he did want the cakes. She couldn’t let anyone know that she was the reason he was crying. She tried to sneak away, but Sha’ael saw the second cake clutched in her fist and pointed at her, crying louder. Her father picked her up and took her straight to the Keeper. She lied and said they were her cakes, that another child had taken Sha’ael’s. But they knew she had already eaten hers. Her father had seen her. 

Thief.

Liar. 

The first two of her wild bits. Pieces of her that were unwelcome. Ugly. Pieces that must be stored away. She was better than that. 

Brill examined the memory, relived the memory, focused on the shame she had felt. Once thoroughly examined, she packed it away. It was not welcome here. It could not be a part of her. She wished she could burn the wild bits rather than bury them in their box inside. There were so many, and the process was painful. Painful, but necessary. She had to hold on to her past mistakes in order to prevent making them in the future. Had to remain aware of and in control of each bit at all times. The only way to do that was to file them away, one by one. 

She spent the next few hours on Mahariel’s back, lost in introspection and oblivious to her surroundings. Mahariel forced her back to reality when he walked her under a low hanging tree branch in an attempt to scrape her off of his back. Brill looked around and realized that it was well after noon. She apologized to the horse and found a secluded spot near a stream to take a break. While Mahariel ate his fill of the grass, she stared up at the Breach, distant in the sky but still clearly visible. In just a couple of days, it would be closed. Her obligation to the Inquisition would officially be met. 

At first, she couldn’t wait to be free. To return to her clan and her role as their First. But now, she hesitated. She didn’t feel relief when thinking about her impending success. She wondered about the mark on her hand. Would it disappear once the Breach was dealt with? If not, would she be stuck with it forever? Would the Inquisition disband or would they move on to other causes? And would they want her to be a part of that? 

Brill chewed her jerky absently as she mulled over her possible futures, uncertain what she wanted. She thought Deshanna wouldn’t know either. She could stay with the Inquisition as they rose in power, which would be beneficial to the elves. Or she could return to her clan once she closed the Breach. They needed her, too. She and Deshanna were their only mages. She was their First and he was getting older. 

She finished eating and mounted Mahariel, ready to move on. She had several hours of daylight left and didn't want to waste them. 

* * *

She is not surprised to see him when he appears tonight. He told her he would be back, after all. Tonight, she is grateful. The Fade had again given her nightmares rather than pleasant dreams. When Solas steps into view he looks around and quickly puts them back on the training field in Haven. 

“Where are you, Herald?” He is insistent. He is intense. She smiles. 

“And good evening to you as well, Solas.” She walks to the fence and leans against it. “I am on my way to Haven, same as yesterday.” 

He sighs and follows to stand beside her. They both look up at the Breach. “Specifically, where are you?”

“Specifically, I am about halfway between Redcliffe Village and Haven. More specifically, I am in my bedroll, wards set, Mahariel watching over me.” She turns her face to gauge his reaction. He gives her none. He stands rigid as a statue with no expression on his face. They stand in silence for several minutes, entranced by the swirling sky above. 

“It is not safe for you to be alone. Word has spread that the Inquisition has secured mages to seal the Breach.” He speaks quietly, but his sudden words startle Brill nonetheless. 

“I have travelled alone many times, Solas. I am staying close to the regular Inquisition routes.” And she is not yet ready to face her friends. To tell them that she let them die, that she failed them. She wonders why she doesn’t mind facing Solas. He leans against the fence next to her and his arm brushes against her shoulder. His touch is warm, a relief against the frosty mountain air. He softly clears his throat and shifts toward her just a bit. 

“Last night, when I entered your dream,” his voice is hardly more than a whisper, “you were terrified. You said that I died. Is that what happened in Redcliffe? In the future?” He is looking down at her from the corner of his eye, his brows raised slightly in question. There is concern in his eyes. Brill casts her eyes down to the dirt, thinking of those final moments in the future. She does not want to tell him. Talking about it might make it real. 

Solas waits for a moment. She can hear his steady breaths and feels his gaze upon her. She wants to say something. Anything to change the subject. But she can’t think of anything except Cassandra’s still form. Varric’s cry. Solas’s eyes. Leliana’s cold determination. Her breath hitches in her throat. 

He turns to face her and catches her wrist in his hand, gently turning her toward him. She looks at his hand and flicks her eyes up to his. He is too close. Much too close. He is blocking the icy wind, and she can feel his body heat radiating across the small space between them. She wants to pull away. She doesn’t want to pull away. 

“Tell me what happened,” he says, his voice low. His eyes drift down to where he is still holding her wrist, and his thumb is tracing slow circles along her pulse point. She follows his gaze down. Brill is not thinking about the dark future anymore. His mana slowly seeps into her, and she looks up with a quiet gasp at the sensation. He meets her eyes and they are dark. She allows her mana to answer his, tentatively. She knows this is a bad idea, but she doesn’t care. This is a welcome distraction. 

There is a sharp tug at the base of her spine. She jerks back, her eyes wide. Solas snaps to attention. 

“What is it?” He asks her with a note of concern.

Another sharp tug, this one strong enough to draw a gasp of pain from her lungs. “My wards. Something is triggering my wards.”

Before he can respond, she is yanked out of the Fade. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for coming back each week. It means a lot to me!
> 
> Chapter 17 will be posted on Saturday.


	17. Repatriate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan returns to Haven and meets a few of its newest recruits.
> 
> * * *
> 
> _“I know that you feel this... connection between us. It’s there. It’s real. What I don’t know is why you are so afraid of it.” She reaches for his hand and he stiffens, so she pulls her hand back. “Please, just help me understand.”_
> 
> _He tries to hide the wince, but Brill sees it. “I... cannot. I should not have come. I apologize.”_

Brill clutched at the staff in her hands the moment she woke. She lay perfectly still for a moment, trying to gauge whether anything was amiss in camp without alerting potential trespassers that she was awake. Dawn threatened to arrive soon; the patches of sky visible through the trees above was tinged with a faint haze of orange and pink. Waking birds were beginning to call quietly to one another, and Mahariel let out a snort from his tether. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

Deeming it safe for the moment, Brill stumbled out of her bedroll and checked the wards she had placed around the campsite the night before. Two of them had been activated. One was in the outer ring. The other was more disturbing. It was only a few feet from her bedroll. Whoever or whatever had tripped the wards had been close enough for her to reach out and touch. A frisson of fear ran through her at the thought. She hastily began to pack up her things, not curious enough to track the intruder. It wasn’t far to the main road, and surely she would be safe there. She might even find some Inquisition troops. 

Mahariel grumbled when she cinched the saddle. He wasn’t ready to go yet. Brill gave him a pat and tousled his mane once she was on his back. A blue slip of something came loose from his halter and fluttered to the ground. Brill furrowed her brow and climbed back down to retrieve it. It was a slip of crudely made paper, dyed blue with crushed Harlot’s Blush. She turned the paper over and tried to make out the writing, but it was in a language she had never seen before. A pang of memory flashed through her mind, gone as quick as it came. The harder she thought about it, the less she was able to recall whatever it was. 

Unnerved, Brill stuffed the paper into her pack and mounted Mahariel. 

“Let’s get out of here,” she whispered in his ear. She clicked her tongue and they were off at a trot toward civilization. 

* * *

Less than an hour later, Brill found a small Inquisition campsite in its last stages of packing up for travel. She slowed Mahariel to a walk as she approached, and she was spotted fairly quickly. 

“The Herald! She’s here!” A templar she didn’t know yelled out the announcement with a wave in her direction. Brill braced herself for a rush of attention as everyone greeted her, but the rush never came. Everyone left her alone as she looked around for someone familiar to speak with. She saw a few people with familiar faces, but no one she had had any meaningful interactions with in all of her time with the Inquisition. She tethered Mahariel to a wagon and hopped down to help load up the wagons alongside everyone else. 

“I expected you to reach Haven long before we did,” a well-spoken voice with a Ferelden accent startled her as she worked. Brill spun around and found herself face to face with Ser Delrin Barris. She braced herself for the familiar panic as she looked past him to realize that the majority of the camp was made up of the Inquisition’s templars. To her surprise, she felt only slight embarrassment.

Returning her gaze to Ser Barris, she replied, “I avoided the main roads. It slowed me down.” She looked around again. “Are there any other Inquisition members with you? Sister Leliana? Seeker Cassandra?”

He shook his head. “No. Commander Cullen gave us orders to return to Haven as soon as the mages were procured. We left Redcliffe an hour or two after your departure. I believe the rest of the Inquisition were scheduled to leave the following morning.” He noticed the box Brill was struggling to keep hold of as they spoke. “You don’t need to trouble yourself. We can handle the packing.” He reached out to take the box from Brill.

She pulled back with a small smile on her face. “I am perfectly capable of heavy lifting. I don’t mind helping. That is, if you don’t mind me tagging along on your return to Haven.” She hefted the box onto the wagon and turned back to Barris expectantly. 

He raised an eyebrow. “And who would I be to refuse a request from the Herald of Andraste?” He chuckled at her scowl. “If you insist on helping, I won’t stop you. We’re moving out in half an hour.” Barris gave her a slight bow, then left her with the boxes. 

Brill continued to help pack, though none of the other templars approached her to chat. They seemed to be avoiding her, if anything. Unsure whether to be offended or not, she shrugged it off. She would be safe with them, and if they continued to ignore her, she would be free to prepare herself for the inevitable debriefing that would surely come once everyone was back in Haven. She told herself everything would be fine. 

* * *

Mere seconds after she enters the Fade, before Brill’s dreams have time to take shape, Solas joins her. Haven’s training field surrounds her as he strides briskly toward her. They meet, and he grips her shoulders tightly and holds her in front of him, his arms tense, the set of his shoulders rigid. 

“You are unharmed?” he breathes, his eyes darting around her face, searching for something. Brill pats at one of his hands and takes a step back, breaking his hold on her. She gives him a sheepish smile. After waking that morning, she’d given little thought to how Solas might react to her sudden disappearance. 

“I’m fine. I found the Inquisition’s templars after I woke. I will remain with them for the rest of the trip.” He relaxes slightly, and the hint of a frown dances across his brow. He gives her a slight nod and turns to look at the Breach, as he often does. 

“I am pleased to hear that you have company.” The tone of his voice is impassive, perhaps even nonchalant as he presses her for more information. “Your wards. What set them off?” He has his back to her now. Brill moves to stand by his side and he squares his shoulders a bit, angling further away from her. Irritation threatens to overtake her. He is distancing himself again. 

She sighs. “Why do you do this?” she asks, not bothering to hide her annoyance. 

“I am simply curious as to what pulled you from the Fade. I did not intend to pry.” Stubborn. 

“That’s not what I mean, and I think you know it.” She reaches out and touches his elbow. “You don’t have to push me away.”

He glances down at her fingers and she tenses in anticipation of his rebuff. To her surprise, he doesn’t move away. His eyes work their way up her arm, stopping when they reach her face. His frown softens when he meets her gaze, and he reaches around to remove her hand from his elbow. He laces her fingers through hers. Brill’s stomach does a somersault but his expression becomes pained and he drops her hand. The somersault ends with a painful clench.

“I do.” He’s looking at the Breach again. 

“Solas-”

“We have had this discussion.” His voice is hardened now, his face severe. He takes in a breath as if to say more, but in the end, he says nothing. 

She shakes her head. “I don’t understand you. One moment I feel as though I’m the only thing you can see. The next, I’m not even a person,” She adjusts so that she’s standing in front of him. Wills him to look at her. He closes his eyes for a moment, then looks at her down the bridge of his nose, wearing a mask of placidity. Satisfied that he’s listening, Brill continues.

“I know that you feel this... connection between us. It’s there. It’s real. What I don’t know is why you are so afraid of it.” She reaches for his hand and he stiffens, so she retracts. “Please, just help me understand.”

He tries to hide the wince, but it fails to escape Brill's notice. “I... cannot. I should not have come. I apologize.”

He’s going to leave. She grabs at his hand, ready to beg him to stay and talk to her, but he pulls away with his hands splayed in the air between them. 

“Solas, you don’t have to-”

“I will see you in Haven, Herald.” 

She reaches for him again, but all she finds is empty air in the gore-strewn hall of Redcliffe Castle. 

* * *

The return trip to Haven took a few more days. Solas didn’t appear in any more dreams, though she waited for him each night. Since their meetings had become more regular, Brill found that her dreaming had become more lucid. She couldn’t change the dreams that her mind chose, couldn’t change the scenery like Solas, but she was aware. It made the nightmares more bearable. She wondered if it was possible to learn to be a Dreamer, and subsequently spent each night attempting to change the things around her. So far, she’d had no success, but was determined to keep trying. 

Her arrival in Haven was lacking the usual fanfare she had become accustomed to. Neither Josephine nor Cullen were at the gates, but that made sense. No one but Ser Barris’s group knew where she was or when she would be returning. With a quick thank you to Ser Barris and Ser Rylen, who had been the only templars to chat with her on the trip, she led Mahariel toward the stables. She glanced around for the horsemaster as she approached and froze in her tracks when her eyes landed on a stranger. 

The gigantic horned man stood between her and the stables. He was staring at the glowing mark on her hand with a mixture of fascination and horror. Brill watched him watching her, unsure who he was or why he was there. A quick glance around confirmed that no one else was concerned with his presence, so he must be a new recruit. He looked like anything but a rank and file soldier. Brill moved toward the stable, altering her path to give him a wide berth. Just in case. 

“Damn, they weren’t kidding about the magic hand, were they?” The horned man hadn’t moved any closer, but his eye was on her face now as he crossed his arms over his broad chest. Brill gave her best impression of a smile, hoping that the intimidation she felt wasn’t too obvious. 

“Yes. It’s a magic hand. Not exactly my choice, but there it is.” She continued walking toward the stables. He closed the distance between them and walked alongside her. 

“Name’s The Iron Bull. My men and I just got in from the Storm Coast.” She felt his eye on her again, studying her. She racked her brain and recalled Leliana informing her of a mercenary group waiting to meet her on the Storm Coast. Brill handed Mahariel’s reins to Master Dennett and turned back to The Iron Bull. 

“One of our agents told me about your group. I believe I was supposed to meet you up north. What's brought you to Haven?” She walked toward Haven’s gates with the assumption that The Iron Bull would follow. He did. 

“Your group having problems with communication?” Again, he was studying her as they walked.

“No. Why do you ask?” 

He chuckled. “You might wanna look into that. Your commander met me and my men on the Storm Coast last week.” He leaned his head down toward her and spoke in a low, gravelly voice, “He was _very_ impressed.” He straightened and continued. “Hired us on the spot. Didn’t even mind that I’m with the Ben-Hassrath.” 

Brill looked up at him as they passed through the gates. “And the Ben-Hassrath is...?” 

He scratched at his shoulder. “Qunari spy network.” Brill stopped walking, eyes wide. The Iron Bull didn’t look at her. He seemed to be preoccupied with one of the straps holding a massive greataxe to his back. In fact, he didn’t seem worried in the least that she had stopped abruptly. 

“Spy network?” Brill moved in front of him and put a hand on her hip. “Explain.”

The Iron Bull stopped fiddling with the strap and raised an eyebrow at her. “You know. Spies. I’m a Qunari spy. I spy.” He gave her a smug smile and went back to the strap. 

Brill’s forehead screwed up as she gaped at him in confusion. “And you explained this to Commander Cullen?” 

“Yeah.”

She wrestled her face under control and composed herself as best as she could. “Well, The Iron Bull, it was nice to meet you. Thank you for introducing yourself.” She turned away from the giant man and altered her destination. She marched off toward the Chantry. As she walked, The Iron Bull called out to her from where she’d left him inside of the gates.

“Yeah, it’s good to be here, boss! See you around!”

* * *

Brill didn’t make it to the War Room. The moment she walked through the Chantry doors, she was accosted by a woman dressed head to toe in finery. 

“Darling! I have been wondering when I would finally meet you!” Before she could react, the woman grasped Brill by her shoulders and turned her left and right, tutting as she did so. “What _do_ they have you wearing, my dear? Surely Josephine didn’t approve of this ensemble.” 

Offended, Brill extricated herself from the woman’s grip and straightened out her rumpled tunic. “Pardon me, but who are you?”

The woman plastered a smile on her face and responded, “Forgive me my dear, I’m accustomed to being recognized. I am Madame de Fer, Enchanter to the Imperial Court.” She held out her hand gracefully. Brill grasped it and gave it a firm shake. Madame de Fer took her hand back with a look of slight distaste.

“I’m Brill, First of Clan Lavellan.” Brill shifted her weight, feeling uncomfortable under the enchanter’s judgemental gaze. 

“Darling, you must lead with your titles. ‘I am the Herald of Andraste, First of Clan Lavellan’.” She smiled again and continued, “A woman in your position must command respect. Titles are the first step. Now, I understand that you have procured the rebel mages to assist with closing the Breach. May I ask, what terms did you offer them?”

“I...we didn’t discuss terms, actually. Unless ‘Go to Haven because you have no other choice’ would be considered terms,” Brill attempted to quell her nerves. She hadn’t realized that she needed to set terms for the mages. She wasn’t even sure what that meant, exactly. 

“Well dear, how you proceed will have a lasting impact on the Chantry. The rebels cannot be given free rein. The Inquisition must keep them leashed, if we are to restore the Circles.” Madame de Fer was almost grim. “As I’m sure you understand, unchecked magic is dangerous and must be kept controlled.”

Brill was visibly surprised at the enchanter's certainty. She’d believed that _all_ of the Circle mages were in support of the Rebellion. Yet here stood one of the most powerful mages in Thedas, clearly disapproving of the Circles disbanding. Brill had been mistaken.

“I will take it under advisement, Madame de Fer,” Brill said, “though I must say that my clan has never had need of a templar to keep our magic in check.”

Madame de Fer laughed loudly. “My dear, how many mages does your clan have? Two? Three? You are bringing over a hundred into Haven. Many of whom have not even been through their Harrowing.” Her expression grew serious again. ”Mark my words, there will be abominations. Have you ever seen one?”

“Lady Herald! You’ve returned!”

Brill nearly danced with relief when Josephine called out to her from her office on the far end of the Chantry. She looked at Madame de Fer in apology.

“It was good to meet you. Thank you for your suggestions.” She made haste to join Josephine in her office. 

By the time Brill closed the door, Josephine was already seated behind her desk, quill in hand, scratching out a missive of some kind on parchment. 

“It looked as though you needed an escape,” she said brightly. “Are Leliana and Cassandra in the village? I was hoping to-”

“Cullen hired a Qunari spy?”

Josephine was momentarily taken aback. “The Iron Bull? Yes, he does claim to be a member of the Ben-Hassrath. I spoke with him when he arrived. He assures me that he will provide us with valuable information from his organization.”

Brill scoffed. “But he’s a spy. Does that not imply that he will also be providing the Qun with information about us?”

“I must assume so. Leliana will be his Inquisition liaison. I trust that she is more than capable of controlling what information he receives and passes on.” Josephine let out a sigh when Brill scowled at her. “I do hope this won’t be an issue. Cullen was adamant that these ‘Chargers’ are a needed and therefore welcome addition to our numbers.”

“So we are paying him to spy on us? Josephine, I will admit that I know less than I should about worldly politics, but I am failing to see how this is a net positive situation for us.” 

Josephine wiped her quill on a cloth and placed it in its stand. She folded her hands in front of her on the desk. “Lady Herald, forgive me, but the Commander and I have deemed The Iron Bull’s presence as a necessary evil. The Ben-Hassrath are very good at acquiring information that we do not have the resources to obtain on our own. I am certain that Leliana will agree with our decision. I would be more than happy to discuss this as a group when she returns.” She watched Brill for a few moments, waiting for further argument. Brill wracked her brain, but couldn’t come up with a suitable counter. 

“I’m sorry, Josephine, it just feels like an unnecessary risk. And he’s really intimidating!”

Josephine chuckled. “Do not apologize, Herald. I would be more worried if you were unconcerned. In any case, we will table that for our next meeting.” She bowed her head slightly and put on a more serious expression. She looked almost nervous. “For now, I have some news.” 

Brill took a seat in the chair next to Josephine’s desk. “Is it bad news? Your face is telling me it’s bad news.” She ran a hand down her face and rested her chin in the palm of her hand.

Josephine softened her expression and shook her head. “No, at least I don’t think so. We have received a letter. From your clan leader. Your Keeper?”

Brill felt both dread and excitement simultaneously. “May I read the letter?”

“Of course.” Josephine opened a drawer on her desk and withdrew a small scroll rolled up and tied with a worn slip of leather. Brill opened the scroll and read. 

> _Clan Lavellan offers greetings to the Inquisition and wishes it well in sealing the Breach that has opened in the sky. While some Dalish clans hate humans and wish nothing to do with them, Clan Lavellan has always dealt fairly with all and wished only for peace. That said, we have on occasion been forced to defend ourselves from those who saw us only as potential victims._
> 
> _It has come to our attention that a member of our clan is being held captive by your Inquisition. She went to the Conclave only to observe the peace talks between your mages and templars, and we find it highly unlikely that she intentionally violated your customs. If she has been charged with a crime, we would appreciate hearing of it. If not, it would ease our concerns to hear from her to know that she remains with the Inquisition of her own will._
> 
> _We await your reply,_
> 
> _Keeper Istimaethoriel Lavellan_

Brill’s hands shook as relief overtook her. Deshanna worried for her. Brill had expected... well, she hadn’t known what to expect. Perhaps it was that she had expected nothing. It had been months with no word. A tiny part of her, buried deep, had thought her clan may have moved on, writing her off as a loss. That they had reached out, put themselves at risk for her benefit...

Josephine shifted in her seat and leaned forward. “Herald? Are you well? I have drafted a response, and left some space for you to add whatever you would like. Are you well-versed in your letters?”

Brill blinked. “Are you asking me if I know how to write?”

“Oh! I would not wish to imply that-”

Laughing, Brill waved a hand at Josephine. “May I use your quill?”

Josephine, face red, ducked her head and pushed the quill and ink pot across the desk toward Brill. Brill spent a few minutes scribbling a reply, then blew on the parchment to hurry its drying.

“Thank you, Josephine. Is there a way to ensure that this is delivered by only a scout or two? Preferably elves. My clan is more adept at human interaction than most, but will be wary of large groups or unfamiliar humans entering their lands.”

“Of course, Herald.” Josephine checked that the ink was dry, then rolled it up and tied it with the same leather piece Brill had removed from Keeper Deshanna’s letter. 

Brill watched her movements patiently. When Josephine was finished, Brill stood.

“Alright. Where can I find Commander Cullen?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your hits, kudos, and comments truly inspire me to continue Brill's story. Thank you so much for supporting me!
> 
> Chapter 18 will be posted on Saturday. Here's hoping that March will come in like a lamb.


End file.
